Two months and twelve days until I have to face the harsh, unforgiving reality: I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I have two months and twelve days left until I’m free. I’m putting in my time and counting the weeks, days, hours and nanoseconds until graduation. The university is located between San Francisco, Oakland and my internal wish to kill myself. I make the commute from my Walnut Creek apartment to Diablo Hill School of Art almost everyday. So they are paying fuck-knows how much money (they could tell me the exact tuition amount, I’m sure) for me to sleep through Journalistic Reporting class, studying a profession I never. They only care that I get my communications degree.Įspecially after I failed at my first year of college, Not that my parents give a damn what courses I take. Here's to chasing my dream, one word at a time. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means. Names, characters, incidents and places are usedįictitiously, and any resemblance to real people, events or locale is coincidental.Īll rights reserved.
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