In one of the many worlds of my brain, the return to school was a day of mourning: no more “Netflix-and-chill,” no more waking up at 10 AM, and no more freedom to eat what I want for lunch. In another world, the return to school was delightful because I was able to see my friends and teachers again, engage my brain in the cycle of endless exploration through writing, and settling back into a different routine. I began my usual routine on the first day: purchasing breakfast from CC’s, skimming along Interstate 12 and escaping the traffic that ensues from having three divisions of schools on one campus.
Monday brought in a welcoming, yet suspicious scene; everything was perfect for me. The line at CC’s was empty, Jefferson Highway was sparse of cars, and I did not have to take the alternative route on Woodland Ridge. The day went by slow, but it was indeed a good one. However, I will not talk about the next day. Tuesday was not a great day to be on the road. First, somebody almost collided into me while I was turning, and I started jabbing the person with mean thoughts in my mind. I said to them, “It isn’t your wheels that need an inspection, an inspection is needed for you!” Okay, I didn’t say or think that, but just the classic expletives.