the ring

The University of California, Santa Barbara. Just like every story, there's two sides to UCSB- one known for academics, and the other notorious for parties.

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Niall Horan

2:15 A.M. University of California dorm rooms, eastern wing.

"Shut the fuck up," I muttered under my breath, one hand full of my blonde hair whilst the other slammed the textbook shut. It was the night before the start of exams, which the other students clearly did not observe. I dragged myself out of my chair and lingered over the door that separated my room from the hallway, but seemed to separate myself from a whole other world. I peeked outside into a corridor littered with red solo cups and the foreshadowings of drunken one night stands- how more cliché could this get? With the flick of my wrist, I slammed the door shut, hoping the partygoers would get the hint. I then settled back into my own little world of academics- where I was safe and free from the worries of STDs, overdoses, and alcohol poisoning.

To be blunt, I didn't have a choice. I was forced to be a hardworking, excelling college student. I grew up in the slums of California, the part that isn't glamorized by television and movies. The increasingly common growing up without a father story, who was ultimately a dead beat and left my mother to struggle on her own, was the reality of my childhood. My mother worked three jobs, which were never steady or high paying, to keep us just scraping by. In our tiny studio apartment, the hallways were plagued by belligerent people and the faint smell of urine, which was oddly similar to the hallways of the UCSB dorms. The days where I spent more than ten minutes with my mother was rare, and while I appreciated what she did for me, I often found myself growing resentful. It wasn't fair that everyone around me seemed to be doing just fine- they had parents and a house with a picket fence on a street lined with trees. One night, sitting in the dark due to an unpaid electric bill, I vowed to myself that I would make a good life for myself. I wouldn't "just be getting by". I would have enough money were bills wouldn't even be a concern. And from then on, I threw myself into two things- school and music.

In elementary school, music class was a safe haven for me. There was something that I unexplainably adored about the way every instrument sounded and how with just the sound of my voice, I could move somebody to tears. Out of every instrument that lined the walls of my public school, the guitar was the one that could completely change my mood right when I picked it up. Most days after school, the music teacher would stay and teach me how to play. And from her, I received my very first guitar.

My hard work in school paid off, earning me a partial scholarship to UCSB. The rest was covered by loans and small gigs at local coffee shops. For awhile, I looked and felt pretty stable. With only three more years of college, I had a bright future to look forward to. Until a simple glance in the wrong direction changed my life forever.