There were entire months where I did nothing remotely productive at all, I skipped college as much as I could, spent my days in bed with my laptop and no human company whatsoever, just the idea of studying made me laugh. I'd studied before, worked real hard to chase my dreams and look where that got me. A sorry excuse of a college that I never would have even considered before. I full-on hated the place. My dreams were long destroyed and this was my new shitty reality. And even though I was bound to live in it, I avoided it as much as I possibly could.

But then, there were times when I let the veil lift a little, and ideas of less shitty realities would pop up. Like what it would be like to study oceanography at the University of Hawaii. Or go sky diving every weekend. Or permenantly move to Fiji. Or be the author of a bestselling book series. Or any of a million other pipe dreams. I'd try to stuff myself into one of these scenarios,but it was like wearing a size thirty-seven sneaker when your foot is a forty—you can get by for a few steps, and then you sit down and pull off the shoe because it just plain hurts too much. I am convinced that there is a censor sitting in my brain with a red stamp, reminding me what I am not supposed to even think about, no matter how seductive it might be.It's probably a good thing. I have a feeling that if I really try to figure out who I am, I'm not going to like who I see.