| What am I doing here? The question circles my head as I look around the tatters of my bedroom. The half-empty beer bottles on my desk, the heap of blankets and sleeping forms on my floor. What am I doing here? I have an entire wall, dedicated to scholastic awards I recieved in High School. Certificates for extremely high test scores, even a special diploma, given to a fraction of a percent of the highest level of students in California. I could've gotten into any school I wanted to with my SAT scores. What am I doing here? On a shelf, next to my computer, sit fifteen folders, filled with various projects and schoolwork from the past years. The papers are covered in coments like: "This work is publishable, why not give it a try?", "Have you ever considered majoring in (fill blank)?", "Pure genious, the best work I have ever seen in my entire carreer," and "I don't know what you'll do with your life, but I'm sure it'll be HUGE, and I'll be proud to say that I was once your teacher." What am I doing here? Hidden away in a box in my closet are tear-stained pictures of former girlfriends who I fell for; who hurt me greviously. I'm not bad-looking. I'm smart. I'm funny. I'm warm, caring, interesting, generous, outgoing... I could have anyone. Still I choose the worst people. I'm alone. What am I doing here? On my bedstand is a trophy for high-scorer in my hockey league. I outscored the second-place person by fifty points. My coach told me that he'd see me in the pros. Now I play in a pathetically undertalented league where I stay in obscurity, only a medium-skilled player. What am I doing here? In one of my dresser drawers sits a small envelope, dated July 16th, 2000. Inside the envelope is a job offering as a handiman, caretaker and ranger on a gorilla preserve in the Congo. Room, board, and transportation was to be provided. What am I doing here? So many missed chances, broken dreams... and here I sit, wondering why. I could be in so many different places by now, but I'm in the one place I least want to be. I can't asky myself where it all went wrong because I know where... I can only ask myself why I chose (and still choose today) the paths I've taken in my life. Knowing that, maybe I can change directions. |