Part 3: Real Life

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I got a job at a hospital nearby, my apartment isn't too far from my job. I walk to work everyday now that it's summer time. I love that I get plenty of exercise everyday. I work as a sterile technician. Sometimes my job is really hard because its difficult for me to understand all the medical terms and objects. For the most part I wash and sterilize all the surgical objects for medical practices. I really love my job and what I do. Sometimes I wonder if I actually needed to stay in college for so long? If I would've known that it was that easy to move out and find a job in a place of my liking, besides its not hard to "tweak" a resume to get the job you want. This is the 21st century and the age of social media, no one really cares. 

I think that I am on the right path now, even though I am not in school anymore, I feel like things are finally coming together in my life, and for the first time I don't feel like a stranger in my own body. I don't feel like I don't belong anymore. It took me dropping out of school to find my place in the world because college was crippling me so much. I'll be 26 in June and this is the first summer that I will get time to spend doing whatever I want, and not worry about next class registration. I feel like this is a blessing but part of me still feels sad, I feel like a failure sometimes because I know that graduating college is something that my parents wanted for me. And I don't think its too late to ever go back to school, but with how long I've been in school, I guess I should've graduated by then. 

Whenever these thoughts arrive, I think about the article and research I do on many people who graduated college or finished any other thing "late" because of personal issues or life's circumstances.. Life is hard and it's not easy, this has been the hardest pill for me to swallow. I guess I was a bit of a perfectionist, always wanting things the way I want them and not leaving room for anything else that can change.. I was taught this way and I grew up this way. 


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