Ambition Is Bullshit

Chapter One

A wise man once said that all you needed to get through life is a single goal and the ambition to accomplish it. Bullshit. I have neither and I'm doing just fine, the only thing I need to keep me going is-
"Miss Wilson!" Not this. I jolted up at hearing my name being yelled. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings. Great, I'm in class with Mr. Lou glaring daggers at me. The poor guy really needs a break.
"What is it now?" I groaned, really wishing I could be anywhere else but here. I have no problem with Mr. Lou, I actually like the guy but he can be slightly too uptight.
"If you're going to fall asleep in my class, I suggest you don't attend it at all!" He gritted his teeth, probably doing his best to contain his anger.
"Is that really an option, sir?" I raised an eyebrow, already knowing the answer but wanting to tease Mr. Lou a little bit.
"Depends, is failing philosophy on your bucket list, Miss Wilson?"
"Hmm, let me check..." I took out my phone, earning a few chuckles as I pretended to check my list when I'm actually reading a text my roommate sent me; I'm going out tonight, don't touch my food. Geez, she worries too much, it's not like her food is all I eat although she does most of the cooking...
"Miss Wilson-" Crap, forgot about him.
"It seems failing philosophy is not on my list, sir." I said, smiling as I put my phone away. "You can continue with the lesson now." He let out a defeated sigh, already knowing that any more attempts at arguing with me would be fruitless. Anyway, welcome back, friend. It's been a long while, hasn't it? I mean it must be because I'm no longer talking to you as the depressed lonely teen but the lazy college student who just mouthed off to her professor. As you can see, a lot has changed in the past few years. I'd love to tell you all about it but that's a story for another day. It seems I still have some of my mania left as I am still talking to you, a person in my head but what can I say? I missed you, bud. That and my hectic college life is getting slightly too mundane.
"Hey Keira," I felt someone nudge me, snapping me back into reality. I cocked my head, finding none other than Christopher. When did he get here?
"What is it?" I asked lowly, not wanting to disturb the class anymore than I already have.
"You shouldn't be so disrespectful to Mr. Lou, the poor chap is this close to having another mental breakdown." Oh yeah, that reminds of my first mount in NYU, he ended up leaving in the middle of class before breaking down in a fit of tears. It might've or might not have been entirely my fault.
"Well, little Mr goody-two-shoes, I'll have you know that that was never my intention." Chris gave me a flat look, obviously not believing me.
"Suuure, it isn't." He rolled his eyes.
"Miss Wilson and Mr. Live, is my lecture disturbing you insistent chattering?" Mr. Lou folded his arms.
"No, sir, we're sorry." Christopher quickly apologized, making me roll my eyes. I sometimes wonder how me and him became friends? Probably because we're in the same class and both avid fans of photography. Although, Chris is nowhere near my level. Just kidding, the dude has me beat.
"Wimp." I faked coughed, earning an unimpressed look from both Mr. Lou and Chris.

After class was finally over, I headed to Starbucks with Chris blabbing about some girl he just met in Chemistry, and how she might be his soulmate. The guy needs serious help, he doesn't even know her name. Chris sat down while I went to order our drinks. Unfortunately, being the eternal klutz that I am, I bumped into some guy. "Hey watch it-" the guy I hit looked at me with his ocean eyes for a few seconds before smirking. "Well, hello there, sweetheart." So he's a hopeless flirt?
"My name isn't sweetheart, jackass." Sorry, but as you already know, I hate cliché love stories, and romance in general. "Oh and sorry for bumping into you." I added as an afterthought. I must sound bipolar, which isn't really that far off the margin for me.
"Well, what's you name them?" He continued with his flirting, making me mentally sigh.
"Tell me yours, and I might just tell you mine." I retorted, folding my arms.
"Mason Deaton." He actually told me? Idiot.
"Cool." I have him a thumbs up before walking away to order my wake-me-up latte and whatever the hell Chris wanted.
"Wait," he grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn around. "You didn't tell me your name." I pulled my arm away, now rather tense.
"I said I might not that I would." I reminded, walking off faster. After I got our drinks, I sat down next to Chris, sipping my latte.
"Smooth, Wilson, very smooth." He spoke.
"Thank you." I retorted flatly. "Who the hell was that anyway?"
"He's a science major in this school and the sophomore heartthrob."
"More like the sophomore jerk." I mumbled.
"Better be careful, Keira. If he his jealous fan club finds out that he has his eyes on you, you're as good as dead."
"First of all, bring it on. Second of all, he doesn't have his "eyes" on me."
"You sure?" He gestures to Mason, who was staring our way while some random blonde talked to him. When he saw that I was looking, he ran his through his brown locks and smirked. Trying to look all hot and bothered, are we? I decided to ignore him.
"What's his problem?"
"Well, you're probably the first girl who didn't swoon at the sight of him."
"Seriously?" Christopher nodded. "Well, I just lost my faith in the human race."
"Took you long enough." He grumbled. "Anyway, how'd you do on that paper? I got a C." He sighed.
"Oh, A." I mumbled distantly, still looking at Mason, he finally  stopped undressing me with his eyes to talk to the blonde next to him.
"Seriously? I swear to god, you're not human." He groaned making me turn my gaze towards him.
"You're just jealous that Mr. Lou likes me more than you." I teased.
"Then, he hates us both." He retorted.
"What's your problem?"
"The paper was worth 20% my grade."
"Geez, if you're that disappointed why don't you ask Mr. Lou for extra credit?"
"Easy for you to say, you wrote yours the morning before and still got a better mark than me."
"Hey, it's not my fault I'm better at philosophy than you are. I did spend most of my early teens questioning life."
"Whatever." He grumbled stubbornly.
"Look at the bright side, you're pictures could win a competition while mine will most likely end up in the trash." I tried to cheer him up. "Also Mr. Lou is probably too busy shoving his face in his ass to actually see how brilliant you are." That actually got him to crack a smile.
"But seriously, you need to go a little easier on the guy. You almost drove him crazy last time." I also drove myself crazy once, but you don't need to know that.
"It's his fault he's so weak-willed."
"That doesn't give you the right to badger him all day."
"If he hated it that much, he could kick me out of the class." I pointed out. "Actually, why doesn't he do that?" Chris shrugged.
"Probably scared of how you'd retaliate." I rolled my eyes.
"If he kicked me out, I wouldn't mind all that much, just means more beauty sleep for me." I yawned.
"You're too carefree, Keira, it'll bite you in the ass one day." He warned.
"Like I said, bring it on." I grinned.

Finally, after a bit too many lattes, Chris and I decided to part ways. But on my way out of Starbucks, I got stopped by none other than Mason. "Me, you, Friday night."He said smugly.
"Yeah, thanks for the offer I guess. But I'm not interested." I slid below his outstretched arm and walked away, leaving a shocked Mason behind.

I made it home to a cold apartment, my dad thought it's better for me to live in an apartment with a roommate instead in the dorms where I'd hardly get any privacy. He offered to pay for it but I decided to pay a shared rent. I dumped my bag on the hallway leading to the living, bad habit of mine. I noticed a few scattered closed boxes, what the hell? "Riles, you home?" I called out. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, my roommate is none other than Riley Jameson. You might remember her as the my former drug dealer who (spoiler alert) turned to be a childhood friend of mine that I completely forgot about. Well, now she's my best friend and roommate who also happens to be very protective of her food supply, go figure. What I'm curious about is why're there so many boxes? Maybe Riley finally decided enough is enough and left? Nah, she'd slap me and force me to move out before doing so herself. To say that I've become a handful the last few years would an understatement. People say that I'm either too nosey or two absent-minded to deal with, by people I of course mean my struggling professors. My parents are actually very proud of me, weird I know, and wished me the best of luck in New York before I left. Dem on the other hand has become more lenient, I mean she's still not very "nice" towards me but isn't as a bitchy actually apologised about what she said about me pretending to be sick. She's a lot more sensitive about bringing up my mental lines or "emotionally abusing" as my doctor put it, but I'm pretty sure that's from my parents influence rather than her own free will, well you can't win them all. The one downside of all of this, is that after I got out of the mental facility my parents became micromanaging towards my life, making sure I take my medications, get enough sleep, and started taking me out to quiet places, meaning no malls, no festivals, no parties, and, believe it or not, no school. I was homeschool all throughout sophomore year and practically had to beg them to make me go back for Junior and Senior years. They basically did a one-eighty is what I'm trying to say, my mom actually broke down and cried when she came to visit me in the psych ward for the first time, begging me to forgive her for neglecting me and forcing me all those times, my dad had to calm her down and now she calls me every morning to make sure I'm alright, whether I'm taking my medications, if I'm feeling alright, and so on. Se doesn't mention my hallucinations or delusion as my doctor instructed her and the rest of my family that it's best they don't bring it up. They've been oddly supportive to me, more so than I ever expected, but the only person who's truly helped me is Doctor Stratos, but she's a story all on her own. "Riles?!" I called out again. "Riley fucking Jameson-"
"Will you shut up already?" I heard a clack as the door opened, revealing Riley. She didn't look all that different except maybe more beautiful and much taller; she's almost 5'9. Her red hair still fell down below her shoulders in waves and her green as eyes more mature and serious. She doesn't do marijuana or drugs anymore, and actually got a tattoo on her left arm, spelling in beautiful calligraphy; cut the bullshit. Yeah, some things never change.
"Where were you?" I began my interrogation.
"Nice to see you're still as absent-minded as ever, Keira, I told you I was going out." She reminded, walking past me to check on her oh-so previous food. "I swear to god, if I even see a single bite missing, you're dead, Wilson." She warned.
"I didn't have enough time." I mumbled. "Anyway, what can of person is so distrustful of their own best friend."
"You're more paranoid than me, figure it out." I sulked at that, Riley sighed and gave me an apologetic look. "Here." She handed me a brown bag, I snatched it out of her hands, opening it and finding a tub of frozen yogurt. "A new place opened a block from here so I decided to get you some."
"I love you!" I grabbed and hugged, making her chuckle.
"Oh, how I miss the old and quiet Keira." She teased. I pulled away from her to give her a flat look when I remembered something.
"Are you moving out?" I asked.
"Huh? What? No. Why would you think that?" She raised an eyebrow, I gestured to all the boxes around us.
"Oh did I forget to mention? We're getting a new roommate."