An Admission

The summer I graduated from high school is when I started to learn things. The majority of my knowledge was from those three months, and everything since then is thanks to movies. My real college education was near the corner at Williamson and Church, inside a rundown movie theater during matinee times for five dollars a week.

During the end run, there was a self aware vibe through the community. Knowing things were ending, we acted without regard. We commented without consideration, and... well.. we didn't dance like no one was looking... it was more like we drank like our parents didn't suspect anything. As the world began disappearing, we took to whatever we could for comfort. Jobs. Cards. Girls. Alcohol. There was solace in physicality. Things we could imprint with our presence were good things. Something to claim as first. We weren't content to swim in the pool, our ripples would fade once we left the water.

This behavior was not reckless. It was liberating. We washed clean a stigma from life, preparing to accept another. The best part? People got honest. Layers of bullshit were cut through to the core. Girls would call, not 'Lets go get ice cream' but 'Look, I've always had a thing for you'. It was shocking to hear so many (let alone one) females be honest. I know now it was the last chance to say something before it would become harbored internally; forever dry docked.

But in college, people aren't doing it so much. Same scenerio, same doomsday clock. We'll be a pumpkin by midnight. What does it hurt to be honest? What does it cost? Do it and the humiliation will be outweighed by relief. So what if you never talk again and everything goes down the crapper. At least you get it out there and won't be thinking about it on some idle Tuesday six years from now, wondering over a bagged lunch if you made a mistake.

Ah, but even I can't buy what I'm selling. That exact moment to prove myself has come twice in my life and I've failed both times. Not just with one person, but two. And the moment had been right twice. I had the words to make it alright, but I bombed and now I can't do anything to make up for missing them.

Yes, the person I wanted to care for is still around. But she's not the same. I fell for a sweet girl my freshman year. That girl was abandoned, used, and now a cosmopolitan, sororistitute takes her place. I think she snogging a limey or a aussie or something now, I don't know.

That' s a lie. Of course I know what she's up to.

So, reader, you have a chance to do all the right things before we bounce up outta this muthafu'. Your situation complicated? Right on. Do it anyway. This is a world built upon decay, ascending to decay, and will eventually breakdown and decay once we leave it. You're either building ontop of your old problems or around them. Shit don't fix. Shit never fixes. You can't move away and hope to start new. You'll only move away and bring the same baggage.

But if you can just admit it to yourself, you can find hope as you control the descent and crash somewhere safe. Look hard enough and there is beauty in the breakdown. There if life teething in every minute, every moment, before it all ends.

It should always be the night before you leave for college, and you should never regret saying what you felt.

Reminders for class: Tomorrow is Monday. Take a mental health day and pretend its Sunday 2.