First story pt. 1

I needed to go out. Everything had been weighing on me for weeks now. Staying in the apartment would be like letting them marinate in a small pot. A very small pot. The apartment was tiny and too small for my problems. I would surely implode if I didn’t get outside soon. There at least, the problems would float around my head instead of crushing me the way they are in here. Maybe they crush me in here because the walls are too close. I wondered how much my troubles would press me if we lived in a place that was actually big enough for all of us.

Deciding this pontification could take place outside, I grabbed Coco, her leash and nothing else. I silently walked passed my mother who was watching TV in her room and went outside.

Just as I knew they would, my worries dispersed. I imagined them as molecules in a jar put into a slightly larger one. All of them are still there. Their situation is the same in both places. One jar gives them more room to bounce around in.

The reason for these problems is that it’s mid April and I still don’t know what college I’m going to. I was accepted at all my back up schools, but my second choice hasn’t sent a response. I have assumed that I wasn’t accepted. Everyone I know that applied was already accepted. Beyond this, I don't even know how I expect to pay for college. Sometimes I blame my mother for not having prepared for her future better. I hold my dad at fault too, but most of the anger is usually directed towards her because she is the one I see every day. There is also the guilt of not having applied to any schools with significant photography program. I remember being fascinated with Polaroids as a child and loving taking pictures with the disposable cameras I was always badgering my parents to buy me. The interest stayed with me and I took photography classes and eventually became good enough to make a business of doing headshots and photoshoots. Everyone has always praised my work and even I think I’m kind of good sometimes, but not good enough. I ultimately would like photograph landscapes around the world for a travel magazine. Though I’m not sure that will ever happen. Since I have never been sure of myself I persuaded myself that I didn’t need to go to a college with photography . I love it more than anything in the world, yet I am too scared to pursue it.

The place I have decided to walk to is somewhere I refer to as ‘The Hill’. It is simply a hill that is significantly higher up with a number of bigger expensive houses on it. It is only across the next main street behind where I live, yet I have never been over there. I have wanted to for a while, but the motivation to do as much walking as this exploration would call for had never come to me until now.

I can never walk into a rich or even well-off neighborhood neutrally. There is always a mixture of sadness, yearning and anger. I never allow myself to feel them acutely, but they always remind me that they are there.