Neil Perry

I always wonder whether this is what I am. I feel so unsure of myself and so self-deprecating; this doesn't feel like a safe place, but this is what I know.

I remember walking around during sunset, watching the sky burn as my neighbors' yards smelled of coal and charred meat, I thought about what I needed. I often stared at my feet as I walked by men walking their dogs, women jogging past. They seemed so satisfied with their mediocre lives in suburbia, but I never felt complete here. College was supposed to be the answer to my prayers; college was supposed to be the Grand Escape. But college was just another mediocre part of life that was no longer about the name branded inside the graduation booklet--this was another four years of learning about things I didn't care for.

I often wonder if college is even right for me. I always dreamed I would go to some art school where half the men were flamboyantly gay, and most of the student population thought doing drugs and art were synonymous. I thought I could finally do things my way; I no longer needed math or science or foreign language. I dreamed of living in New York City and listening to obscure indie music and drinking tea and reinventing myself.

Sometimes I wonder how much of a disappointment I would be if I didn't finish college; I feel so much pressure to destroy who I am in order to become something I can't be.

Neil Perry, you and I have so much in common; your father and my father wanted us to burn our dreams and to watch the ash float away as they handed us the tuition to become doctors. But you and I know what we were meant to do, except I will succeed. But I really wish you were real.

I really wish we could make this journey together.