Handgliders.

I had expected myself to fall quite readily upon my leap from this safe-zone of stagnant mediocrity into change and Emily. This is not the case, and I've found myself holding some sort of invisible handglider that slows my decent into independence whilst pissing the majority of people I hold dear off as well.

I can't wait to simply have my feet on something solid. I'm just so tired of drifting closer to the floor of where I'd like to be.

College has had some odd developments. It's not exactly everything I want it to be, and all the opportunities that had been fostered for me in Missouri now seem like they're glowing like a damned sun of regret saying, "You should have prepared early! You should've made all your important decisions when you were seventeen! Why, oh why did you get comfortable?"

There are no rooms in the Male Dormitories, so if I want to save myself the metric-assload of distance between me and the college, I've got to shut up and color until Next Semester when the drop-outs and graduates are finalized or I've got to work on borrowing a vagina.
I'm opting for the first course of action.

I have passed the entrance exams with flying colors, having eaten the English portion, which I already have free credits for thanks to my college-level courses. I even did golf-clappably okay on the Math portion. Not stellar, but solid, and now I qualify for an array of courses as opposed to some rudimentary knuckle-dragger course I'd been anticipating.

However, like the dormitories, the Medical courses are full and they're not accepting late applicants. I feel slightly jaded, knowing that nobody in that course has the two college accredited courses I have, nor the community involvement, even if it's only through the Community Blood Center. I have to wait for people to quit. They offered me a chance to talk to other medical students who will help me plan how to get closer to Emily with more credits, but I frankly don't have much faith in that sort of system, and I imagine a whole lot more of sitting in a room for an hour drinking swill coffee while someone texts on their phone in between classes.

I don't know. I'm a little jaded. It's not what I thought it'd be, but I talked to Emily and I think I'm going to spring for it and just knock out my Prerequisites and hope they transfer.

...Also, my father hates my guts and can't seem to decide if he'd like to be drunk, asleep, or impotently angry. His martyr routine is frustrating, and he seems clueless as to why I'm so eager to get the fuck out. And more clueless still as to why nobody likes to ask anything of him.

...Because the moment we get on our knees? Any of us?

He hops up on his cross.