For being at that stupid school for so freaking long, I didn’t get any better. I was still emotionally unstable, and wanted to die. The clubs I was forced to join were helping, I guess you could say; they’re helping my therapist apply for colleges. I’ve always wanted to go to New York so that’s where most of my colleges I’m applying to are at.
Graduation was coming up and it was time for everyone to get their college letters.
“Now, Mona. if you don’t get into any of them, don’t be upset. We could always get you into a special school around here,” my therapist was explaining.
“No. I need to leave stupid Michigan. Nothing happens here and I’m sick of it.”
“C’mon. You don’t have to be so rude about it. I just want to help.”
“And I just want my letter.” Soon enough, the mailman stopped by my dorm’s section of mailboxes and put something in each of them. I quickly ran downstairs and jumped right at the box and shoved in my key.
Once I grabbed the couple letters that were in there, I ran back into my dorm and opened them. First, I opened some that I really didn’t care if I got into or not, but since I’m “mentally unstable” I got into all of them. The last letter I opened was the one from City University of New York. It was honestly the school of my dreams. It was near Times Square and Central Park, which I loved oh-so much.
The letter from City University of New York seemed to take longer to open than the others. I was nervous and I could feel myself starting to shake. Once I finally got it open, I starting reading,
Dear Mona Carter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into City University of New York…
That was all I read before throwing it up in the air and having my therapist grab for it. I saw her reading it and start to smile at me. All I could do was jump around and smile.
A few hours later, I was changed into some short black Soffe shorts and a short-sleeve t-shirt from my writing group at the hospital, with my hair tied up into a bun. I was relaxing in my bed happily with my acceptance letter on my chest. All Time Low was playing from my iPhone’s speaker and I was ready for the rest of my life.
