Many people may see college as a place of ecstasy. Many teenagers today dream to attend top colleges. With hopes of getting their degrees or whatever else they need for their careers. I was one of those many teenagers,young and ignorant of the knowledge about college. Ever since my first day of high school I dreamt about attending Harvard School of Business.
My name is Lexian Brooks. I'm just 20. It's my second year in college and I'm struggling to finish.
"Lexian!" the professor shouted drifting me from thoughts. He was a middle age man with a white beard and wore track suits to class everyday.
"Yes" I replied completely annoyed.
"You need to pay attention miss" he said while dragging his long fingers along the white board.
I slightly nodded my head to signify I was paying attention even though I wasn't. As I was saying. It's been my second year of this haunted institution and where I attend daily trying to not lose myself. My thoughts were interrupted by the loud electronic bell signifying the end of the school day.
I started to neatly pack away my notepad and pens in my black puma bag. While making myself through the door I was called back by my professor.
"Yes "
"Is everything okay" he asked.
I wanted to burst out in laughter. Is everything okay I repeated in my mind. Of course not. I hate this place. Coming here was the worst mistake I ever made in my life. Not that was I failing or none of that dumb stuff. But it's so immature here. The females are just like that little group in mean girls. Little hoes. Who don't want to grow up and face reality and stop depending on their daddies.
"I'm fine" I said brushing away my thoughts while trying to fake a smile.
"If there's something bothering you. I think you should tell me"
"I.." I begin to say but I'm interrupted
"I can't forget the first class I had with you. You were glistening with interest and happiness. You were always ahead of me in topics. " He says
"If there's something bothering you. Here's a number of a friend" he said while offering me a paper with a phone digit written in red ink.
I was totally confused. Was my professor trying to hook me up. Wtf?
"He's a good a good psychologist" replied while taking up his bag.
"Sorry that's for mad people" I snapped
"It's just someone to talk to, he's even free too "
Thank god. I didn't think I was financially ready to see a psychologist. Not that I was thinking of going. I still think it's for mad people.
"Thanks" I say while exiting the room.
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