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━ DECEMBER ,2019 ━
ISABELLE
✧
THERE ARE SOME things in life that, no matter how much you want, are never meant to be yours.
The reasons behind such a philosophy (or rather, fact) are of an unbelievably wide range. In my case, however, it was complicated. Complicated to the point where I didn't know what to call it. You'll get what I'm talking about, gradually.
"Fall semester applications are closed." I huff, my index finger lazily moving the cursor to close all tabs and shut down my laptop for the day.
"You can still apply in spring. There's nothing to be stressed about." Dad suggests as I make my way to the lunch table.
My father was one of those people in the world who, inspite of the chances being extremely thin, liked to believe there was light on the other end of the tunnel. I liked to believe the light was either blinding, or, an illusion.
At this juncture, I regretted my entire existence. For starters, my Physics paper was in three days and I was less than semi-prepared. I was late for the Fall semester application to Cornell. And, I was sisterzoned by the guy I had wasted my entire senior year on.
"I know . . . it's just" I sigh, for the umpteenth time, "I'll be starting later that others."
"Who cares, and it's not the only college you applied to. Learn to wait."
My mother had a point. As long as I was in a good place, nothing else really mattered. Yet, there was this fear in my mind that constantly recited a list of what if's. Oh, how I wished I could rid of it.
The primary reason why I wanted to go off to college so badly was my hatred for high school.
Riverfront Academy was, in my opinion, a bunch of overly irritated teachers and creepy, intolerable classmates packed up together like sardines. Leaving out some rare exceptions, of course. But I wasn't friends with such exceptions so that point goes moot.
And even though I was just two months away from graduation, it sure seemed like forever.
High school had been the worst four years of my life and if anything, it was a cheesy soap opera in which I had accidentally landed, was compelled to stay and fight to survive. There were the usual stereotypes of course. And I probably belonged to the category of wallflowers. But what made me unique (maybe in a bad way) was that I hung out with the mean girls. Bummer!
