TEDDY BEAR ⎯ rucas

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❝ Acting like you don't care is not letting it go ❞

— PENELOPE DOUGLAS

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When I was younger, I had a set plan for my life. I knew where I wanted to go to college, what my major was going to be, even the age I wanted to get married and potentially have children. I thought that if I kept planning things out, it would point my life in the right direction and keep me on track — that was what I told myself.

I never realized how much of a liar I actually was.

I set a "life plan" after he left because I needed something to take my mind off of it all. Setting a "life plan" seemed like a good idea because it would help me move past everything that had happened and keep my mind occupied with trying to check everything off of the list. And to some extent, it did.

After he left, I only focused on one thing — college. I found the exact school I wanted to attend and put all of my efforts into going there. I slowly found myself becoming more distant with my friends, as I always found some type of school related work to do. There was no one after him. Nothing like that was important anymore. Relationships weren't going to get me into college — good grades and high SAT scores were. The process of getting through it all wasn't as horrible as I envisioned it to be. There were only two or three nights I cried myself to sleep but for the most part, I was busy and fine.

When I received my acceptance letter from the college I set my expectations to, I wasn't as happy as I thought I would be. I heard people saying they had cried or were already planning a congratulatory party and inviting as many people as possible. Nothing like that happened for me. I ripped open the envelope and when my eyes landed on the

"Dear Riley:

On behalf of our Admissions Committee, I am pleased to inform you"

I briefly smiled and brought the acceptance letter up to my room and placed it on my desk, not bothering to read the rest of it. It didn't feel like a huge deal — getting accepted into the school I expected for myself. On graduation day, I attended the party that was thrown afterwards and drank any kind of liquid in sight. By the end of the night, I was still as sober as I was when I walked into the party.

A month after graduation, I started planning and packing for college. I was going out of state while most of the people in my school were staying in New York. It seemed stupid to stay somewhere you've been your entire life and not want to experience new cultures and people. I couldn't wait to leave and move 2,441 miles away. There just wasn't a point in staying.

College was very different from high school — it was better. I started hanging out with new people, made new friends and joined different clubs and groups. There were a few casual relationships but none of them ended up serious. It wasn't that I was still heartbroken because of him; none of them felt right. I never wanted anything more than the "physical stuff" with those guys. It never bothered me if they went out with other girls or if we never did anything other than be physical. They were a nice pastime activity and helped me transition into who I wanted to become.

After college graduation, I immediately found a job for a company that specialized in private practice clinical therapists — a psychologist having a one on one session with someone. The practice was small, as it was done from my boss's home, but it was good pay. The downside to it was that it was back in New York. I wasn't too keen on moving back home when I had just gotten over everything that happened. I was happy with my life, with the friends I made, the relationships I had. But, it wasn't as if there was a line of companies waiting to hire me in California. I decided to swallow my pride and pack my bags and move back to New York.