For weeks know, you kind of knew this day was coming. In all honesty, you pretty much just blocked the dates for your return to college, because every time you thought about it you felt like you might vomit. So when you got your first email about an upcoming class, you didn't think much of it. You assumed that one of your professors was getting an early start. You skim over the email, not really paying much attention. It wasn't like any of this mattered yet. School was ages away.
And then you got to the last line, and suddenly all you could hear was white noise. This couldn't be happening. You read those four words over and over, horror building up in your chest.
"See you next week!"
Dear God.
Monday.
You've led a pretty good life, right? Sure, you haven't been great, passed a few homeless people, never really tithed like you should. But it's not like you're a murderer or anything. It's not like you deserved some sort of cruel or unusual punishment.
Well, you must've been Jack the Ripper in a previous life 'cause the gods of university are not in your favor this semester. So far, you were late to your first class, asleep for most of your second and the average cost per textbook would bankrupt Apple. Toward the end of the day, beaten and ragged, you open your bag to see your gym clothes tumble out.
Ha, yeah right.
Tuesday.
You've already dropped a class. You were in Spanish for about ten seconds before you realized every decision you've ever made was a mistake.
An hour later, you'd dropped it for some lit class you couldn't care less about. Now you can't go to Mexican restaurants without Vietnam style flashbacks.
Wednesday.
In class today you filled an entire notebook page with the words "kill me."
This is what your life is now.
Thursday.
You pass a group of tour guides as they show some prospective students around. You feel like they should be warned, but you walk on by, saying nothing.
What kind of monster are you?
Friday.
You're so close. One last day of classes and you're done for the weekend. You clench your fists and bust into your first class, hell bent on staying awake. Maybe you'll even work out today.
The sound of desks moving wakes you up, and you drive past the gym on the way home, Googling places that deliver pizza.
Saturday.
You did it. It's Saturday, and you're still technically, physically alive. You think you might unwind, watch some Netflix, listen to some music.
Then the emails start pouring in, assignments, readings, assaults on your sanity.
There is no rest for you. Not at College.
