Now, back at the original community college, where I started, I rushed to the advising office with my bag full of drawing supplies. I was stressed then; I hated the fact that the advisors heard the weakness in my voice when I explained my condition. Strictly, I was told to reach out later today, around five in the evening. It's twelve noon, and I don't own a car. To pass the time, I lingered through the library stacks of books I've already seen. Mild refreshers here and there.
I never thought that walking the pathways of a campus would be humiliating. As I speak, I am lounging in a wooden chair, writing this. The last week and the current one have been troubling for me. After I received the news that I couldn't attend the university I dreamt of—right before the week when I was supposed to depart. With tuition rates pushing my financial limits, I couldn't meet the financial requirements. Now, I must explain to my peers and family why I can't attend; I hate it. Two years' worth of college, graduating next year later than expected—I thought transferring earlier would beat the game, but I'm mistaken. Wandering would offer some degree of freedom and individuality, to put a part of my past behind me and to witness the traditional college experience. It's hard to accept that I can't for now. I craved change, but things happened, pushing back goals and ideas. Therefore, I understand if not; it's expected.
When I visited the campus in the Lowcountry, almost a month ago, it was pleasant to see the wetlands for the first time. I know I wouldn't be returning there in years; I already fought to see some body of water. I want to study the water and fish. Given everything going on, I'll focus on working and learning as much as I can to get through it.
