Instant Noodles. Lectures. Depleted EDM nightclubs. Exhaustion.

I watch Jennie stumble to her desk, barely getting by. Only, she now goes by Mary Jane, hoping this little world of her’s will one day take her seriously. I saw her leaving late last night with Michelle, who just lost her spot on the swim team last weekend.

“So much for the Olympics. From now on, the only time you’ll find me in water is drowning in debt! Business— I should’ve pursued business!”

What happened to passion? We glorified this life as juveniles. We were promised answers. Fortune. Fulfillment.

My social circle is made of hopeless, delusional nobodies—dreamers at best. They say they’ve chosen their paths to better society, but if a dream ends at making it through a semester or two only to pursue something else entirely for the sake of comfort, should it really qualify as a dream if it was never one to begin with?

What is it with wanting to “accomplish great things” when all we do is hide out amongst our kind? Either spending time competing with one another, or validating each other’s sins. Reality check: No one cares what happened within these walls. They’re watching how you handle yourself outside of it.

Now that I’m one month away from making big-kid decisions, I’ve realized it’s all been an illusion. A money hungry illusion.