by Clark Joseph
A story of heartbreak, trials, and pure courage. Unfinished***
|This piece is unfinished. Please review for grammar, wording, spelling etc. Also include if you like the elements and how this is being written.
I awake today to a resounding silence. It is the afternoon and the sun is beaming at me through the window. My melody is unmotivated; I just want to sleep more. I took a shower yesterday so I’m good for at least another day, just as long as I stay out of another fight. I was fired from my job about two weeks ago. I have not even bothered to get a new one. To keep my utilities going I’ve pawned almost everything. Tuesday I pawned my whole kitchen. Why cook food when you can eat out? The only thing I miss is the refrigerator. It always kept my beer nice and cool. It has been so long since I have drunken for taste anyways. So I’m good. I have decided to take a shower anyways. Showers are what make my days. Along with a few hobbies. As I shower I like to reflect on everything A to Z. Usually I start of by thinking of everything that pisses me off. You know, for contrast. After high school I decided to take a year off and work awhile. So I got a job as an administrative assistant. It sounded great. I got to earn around 35K a year and a new suit for work. What they “forgot” to mention was how I was to be available every hour. But I have to remember they choose ME for the job. Not the other applicants who last had formal education in the 7th grade. After deciding I would take my own vacations from work, I was forced to resign. Let the next jerk be slapped around eh. Then after that I end my shower reflections with a positive note to start of my day just right! I think of how great everything in high school was. Then the warm water started to fade. I was left standing. Cold water beating on the back of my neck. Today I am going to enroll to our local community college. I have no money, just a high school transcript that shows I have never failed a class.
I like to think of myself as upper class. But the administrator says I can apply for an underprivileged scholarship. I think of it as free money. I instantly accepted the scholarship, no regrets.
It is my first day. I am starting my first year of a two year general studies degree. At no cost to me! I sit between a woman named Lauren who was a convicted felon by age five, and a kid with high hopes of transferring to Yale after six weeks. All I can think of is how I want just five minutes to take a quick smoke break. Then, IT happens. “Lets have a quick break class, be back at 12:45” says ugly looking teacher. Today I woke up half a day earlier than usual. Yesterday I pawned my sink. Now I just brush my teeth in the shower. “Alright class lets continue furthering our education” yells the fat ass teacher. It’s hardly been a minute and I just lit up. I think I will stay out here and finish what I have started, then return to class.
By the end of a month, I am failing all but one class. I am passing lit by two points. It’s just simple to me, no big deal. At the end of another month I am called up to the counseling center. I expect to have my scholarship removed and be forced to take out a loan I could never repay. As I walk in the receptionist immediately says “you must be the one” and directs me to a stereotypical office. Including photographs reprinted of famous scientists with goody saying on then, and a degree from where Mr. Blackwell graduated. New York University here by blah blah blah. If he went to NYU why is he a councilor for a community college in Denver? All he does is tell students stuff we already know. Just in a different tone. I really appreciate Mr. Blackwell. He really respects me and treats me like an adult. The mature confidence inspires me.
Three weeks later I am failing all but one class still. Literature. It is in the dead of winter and things don’t seem to be look-in up. In my college lit class things are really looking good though. We are examining books I was supposed to read in high school. Hearing all these new perspectives on these books I never read before. It makes my day. The only reason I don’t have a four is because I do what I want. I am a revolutionary. I don’t do the elements of literature. If I don’t like a book, fuck it. I won’t read a sentence of it.
I get invited to a party by a decent woman with a huge rack. I always wanted to go to a college party. Mainly for the sex. I wound up actually going, hitching a ride from the woman. I can’t remember her name. Is it Trisha? Tracie? Oh it’s Taylor! Yeah Taylor! I’m bad.
When we get there it is everything short of what I had hoped. It was all of my classmates sitting playing poker at a table that is too small. Lauren the felon is there. She was the first to start drinking. I soon follow.
I wake up the next morning on the roof naked. It is very cold and I am shivering. Although it is cold, I lie there. I should be wondering if I got a girl pregnant last night. After all who wouldn’t want to sleep with a pasty boy that looks anorexic? I am in deep thought. Or so I hope. I think about people. How miserable everyone must be. Life is impossible. I get a shout from a hung over Lauren to come inside.
I look over everyone that is still there. Lauren looks like she needs to get laid. I can’t imagine why, she seems like she gets around like a tourist. I hate Lauren. I don’t mind because I’m sure she hates me. Or is it I don’t mind that she hates me because I hate her? AHHH I am tingling from being so cold earlier. I’m still naked too, damn where are my clothes? Taylor brings me my boxers. I catch her checking me out. What a poser. She looks like she would screw over her best friend on a whim.
I leave with a cigarette in my mouth wearing just my boxers.
My art teacher is bad. Mr. Smits is awful. He’s the kind of guy I look at and immediately loose respect for. He’s the tight wound up factual kind of know it all. What a jerk.
I am getting called daily back to the guidance center. I just want to stay as long as I can before getting kicked out, or my scholarship getting removed. Then I get a call from Mr. Blackwell himself. What a joke. He is begging me to come in. I get sick of him and agree to meet with him. This time the receptionist knows my name. “Right this way Billy Saint” She says while checking me out. I then return the favor. She is very corpulent.
As I walk in Mr. Blackwell takes his degree from NYU off the wall. He then shocks me by asking “How would you like to go there? Free of charge!”