A gas station bathroom.
A department store on Black Friday.
A bank in the middle of a robbery.
An isolated island, without a boat.
A carnival filled with broken rides.
A sleazy bar with overpriced drinks and dirty cups.
A graffiti covered bridge tunnel.
The middle of a snowstorm, without a jacket.
A bug infested swap meet.
A farmhouse of needle ridden haystacks.
The center lane of a freeway, in a car that's run out of gas.
A dirty basement crawling with rodents.
A thorny rose garden in the winter.
All the places I'd rather be sitting than in this English 419 classroom, dying slowly.
I’m trying to tune out the bullshit of this disturbingly horrific torture chamber of a class.
I hate it here.
I'm dying here.
Comparing college to a "torture chamber" might not sound quite accurate since college is a place where we voluntarily choose to go but unfortunately there doesn't seem to be a better way to describe college from the situation where I stand.
To me, college is a prison where I am forced to conform to standardized measurements of intelligence. Where I am reminded daily of how inadequate I am as a scholar. Where I must sit in my chair, keep my mouth shut, and absorb lectures on topics I'll never give a fuck about.
It is a place where I am inhibited from following my passion of writing my books because instead I am forced to jot down notes on the differences between between hydrogen and carbon, and I must learn about air pressure, sea levels, and millibars... Even though I am an ENGLISH major.
And when placed in English class environments, I am still unable to follow my passion and desire to write. Instead I'm being suffocated by pillows of English 419's eighteenth century literature and English 436's tests that ask me to decipher if a random quote we went over weeks ago was written by Ralph Waldo Emerson or Walt Whitman.
And more importantly, unrelated to anything I want to do in my life.
College has not prepared me for a future career in the real world.
Rather, it has taught me to endure sleepless nights, fall nauseas at the sight of a college level textbook, and figure out how to stretch an answer that only requires one paragraph of words into 2 pages of "fluff" in order to meet requirements. It's also given me the ultimate guidance on how to be successful in life as a bitter, stressed out, and antisocial girl.
College, for lack of a better term, is bullshit.
I hate it here.
Every moment longer I spend here makes me wonder... How badly do I really want or need this degree?
Is it worth sacrificing my dignity, being that I am unable to stand up for myself against all of these meticulously authoritarian professors? Is it worth the constant self-hatred and self-doubt that I feel each day as a student? Is it worth the anxiety attacks before each exam and the unrelentless pressure I feel on my shoulders each time an assignment deadline approaches? Is it worth all of this damage to my mental health?
Is it worth the risk of possibly losing my genuine talent and passion for writing?
Because my passion is being BUTCHERED... in college.
This is where I stand currently, knowing that individuals are seen as far less valuable in society without their degree. Knowing that I will most likely need my degree to thrive...
I feel as though I am forced into a corner.
Which is why I compare college to a "torture chamber."
I do not know what to do.
I feel hopeless.
I can’t wait to finish and never look back.