The Mourning of a Dead Life
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“You got accepted into the school you’ve always wanted to go?”
They say.
“Alright! That’s great! You must be overjoyed!”,
They say.
There’s joy, of course
But with it comes fear and worry,
Anxiety and mourning,
Mourning of the death of a life
I’ve been meaning to live
Where education is a privilege
And not a stressful everyday duty.
A life where my cheeks are rosy,
My head is spinning,
My breathing never slows,
To the adventures of living
Of traveling,
Of dreaming,
Of loving.
In this life,
Those delusions must die.
For if they don't,
I cannot receive a perfect score on a test.
I cannot receive a meager amount of scholarship money.
I cannot be considered for financial “aid”.
Aid? Aid?
A lifetime of debt?
With capitalized interest?
You call that aid?
When we work,
We stumble,
We trip,
And do it all over again tomorrow?
We must work at least 7 hours a day,
Most likely at minimum wage,
To pay for the 30 years of debt the government has “aided” us with.
In this life,
A student with parents who have low incomes must make a choice.
Shall he or she give up a chance at education and knowledge?
Or shall he or she give in to a restless and relentless life of living with student debt?
The student wants to conquer,
To gain,
And most importantly,
To reach his or her dreams.
This is the end and the beginning.
The end to a life as it must be:
Spontaneous,
Adventurous,
And full of passion.
The beginning to the merciless repetition of a routine;
The unavoidable materialism that comes with only having to worry about paying for
debt for most of your life;
And in worst case scenarios,
The complete decimation of joy and the will to live.