I was sitting down for my tutoring hours waiting for no one to come when two classmates of mine appeared, one after the other.

They both asked me if I was still in my Cell and Molec class to which I replied, “Technically yes.”  I just don’t go to class anymore and I do urge those still sane people, this is a bad idea.  The first was Classmate One and he sat down and spared a moment for a chat to get a feel for what was going on:  a tutor buddy had told him that I was changing majors which I repeated to him and I could see the strangest view in his eyes.  He seemed… awfully disappointed in me.  Much like my adviser had shown me when I told her.  It led to a lot of questions about why and how I am going to make money and such things that are important in life.  The second was Classmate Two and he asked me in a cautious and caring tone, “What the hell is going on?”  He meant it as in, “Are you all right?  Do you need help?”  I can’t explain enough how much I hate going to class and how this is draining me to be ohk with their looks.  Classmate Two was far kinder in expression though.  On the inside though, rage boiled. In some ways I felt that they were looking at me for the loss of potential and they had thought so little of my new area of study.  They thought so little of art as being worthy of study.  And this saddened me deeply.

15:30 came quickly, not before I escaped the thought of crying.  Who else was I letting down?  Who was close to me that felt I needed to snap out of it and keep on chugging on?

I decided to visit the DC Booth Fish Hatchery with two precious friends:  my roommate and Seth.  I stood outside the balcony of my apartment complex and told Seth about my experience with Classmate One and asked, “Why are people so disappointed?”  Seth said simply, “Because you are good at it.  But you know what?  It’s your life.”  And that was one of the best things I had heard all day.  The other was from beloved friend M (who had replied to, “What are you afraid is going to happen?”) that she worried I might not be independent when I needed to be.  I needed to hear that too.

College is a difficult institution for me.  I’ve not wanted to go.  I had actually not intended on it.  I chose to accept what my mom wanted for me and in turn, here I am.  Do I regret the experiences I have had so far?  No, not really.  What I regret is not being a strong enough person to fit into college.  I can feel it in my bones from a conversation I had with my friend John who spoke to me dearly about his let downs and out-of-place experiences in our town and university.  He said he needed to leave and was taking some time and I tried to caution him never to lose passion for fear that we may wither into nothingness if we both weren’t careful.  I need a break, I need to do something for me and that includes pursuing a different course.

Otherwise, my depression will eat me alive.

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