Brutal

I never knew brutal until I left my parents’ house for the very first time.  Until that very moment, I never considered that every family didn’t have a housekeeper, a chauffeur, and a chef on call at all hours.  I didn’t know everyone didn’t have an extra vacation house or two.  When I finally went to college, my parents bought me a house so I wouldn’t have to live in the dorms and I didn’t realize my classmates had to work to cover their own bills. 

“Just have your parents transfer the money…” the first time I said this to a classmate, all I got back was a blank stare.  That was the first time I ever considered my upbringing might be slightly different from my peers.  And it was the first time I thought I should pay more attention to those around us.  When I started looking for my first job, I quickly realized I had no marketable skills.  No skills that would advance my future.  No skills.  No future.  No life. 

My life was such a joke.  Such a lie.  I knew my parents wouldn’t care if I ever dropped out of college.  Wouldn’t have cared if I never left the house.  They never saw me anyway.  I floated my way through college, writing for the newspaper all four years.  Regardless of what my parents thought, I knew writing was my way out. But out to where was the biggest question I had yet to answer.