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The Longest Four Years

A short piece reflecting on my alcohol abuse in college.

By Amelia AlvaradoPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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I don't need your support. I do not want it.

I don't want the idea of pity, self or any other kind to infiltrate my life.

Independence is what I search for, but no matter how hard I try, I fail.

I fail in comparison to those my same age, living great lives and receiving gold bars and bonds.

I fail when I look in my parents eyes and realize that I, with the assistance of immature, mongoloid, frat boy mentalities, ruined the future worked so hard for.

Ruined the reputation previously untouched in less than a month.

Filtered out the positive experiences and replaced them with the stench of vodka and red wine.

With its clear, indiscernible contour, I believed everything would be fine.

No problem revealed, no issue thrown around in my face as the high class unicorns with half a brain torment me on the very fact that I, from the sunshine state, was the exact opposite of sunshine in my state.

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