I never was one to aim high into the sky. If anything, I was way too lazy to try and impress my family with my academics. But I knew if I wanted to create a future for myself then I needed to get my shit together. I was the normal high school band kid, dragged into marching band, while graduating with somewhat okay grades.
My parents of course weren't happy when I told them I was planning on going to college for Criminal Investigation. Dad, was unimpressed as ever, never telling me his opinion. While my mother on the other hand, was more than ready to lose her mind. She would day by day yell and scream at me, hoping I would change my mind, change my future, for her sake. She said it was too dangerous, too drastic of a change to our everyday normal lives. I just held my head down and listened, never talking back to her.
Growing up, my room was my safe space, it's appearance changing as we both grew throughout the years. Suddenly the once decently sized room became suffocating. The tapestry seemed childish and the room smelled of bad arguments. The minimum waged jobs always sucked and they always will, but I was able to get enough money to cover some college costs and get a loan.
I wasn't chasing a Criminal Investigation degree on a whim. I studied, researched papers and articles, and read so many books on the topic. I became entranced with it, finding my purpose, finally something that I could be proud to become.
Walking out of the home I lived in with my parents since I was born was.. rough. I struggled year by year, with no support from my parents. The ever distant dad and stressed mom never seemed to think my problems were important. So I just.. left.
Loading my car was stressful. I had to pack 18 years worth of my life into one tiny Chevy Trax while my parents watched me with mournful gazes. They stood on our porch, etched with memories of a childhood that I could never get back. The autumn breeze blew with such force, as if it was laughing at me. Looking back at the house, at my parents, I knew they regretted how they treated me, with no respect and no freedom. I couldn't have friends over, couldn't go anywhere, couldn't say something without setting off my mom.. no words were exchanged. I almost caved when I looked over at them. They looked miserable.
So here I am now, in my dorm room, on my fifth energy drink, as I drop the last heavy box full of books and chargers onto the floor.
"Phew, oh my god, the stairs actually killed me. I am literally dead." I wheezed, hunching my body over and putting my hands on my knees.
It seems as if the world just wants to give me a hard time today because one of my beautiful roommates, Triska, walked in on my dramatic moment. She was a radiant African American woman, who held so much power in her steps. When I first met her she warned me that she had many hair products in the bathroom because she likes to keep her natural hair as healthy as possible. I haven't met my other roommate yet, but I'm sure she's probably just as amazing as Triska is.
When I said Triska was beautiful, I aint a liar. Her hair looked like a fluffy cloud, her makeup was absolutely on point and she wore such vibrant clothes that made her stand out. While compared to me, I looked like trash standing next to her. I had a normal build, surprisingly long brown hair, hazel eyes, black sweats on, and a long sleeve black turtle neck on. Totally not main protagonist energy.
I stand up straight after regaining my breath. "Don't mind me, just had an existential crisis."
She puts one of her hands in front of her mouth as she giggles. "Well girlie, I could have helped if you asked." Triska points her thumb behind her shoulder, towards the door. "You must be hungry, I'm going out to eat with some of the girls I met today. Wanna come? You know, meet others and see if they might be in your class or sum?"
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~𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒂~ 𝙇𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙮 𝙭 𝙊𝘾
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