New American Classic

My hands were sweating and trembling like I was in the midst of making a life or death decision.

“Just do it Lola, it’s a college application not an apocalypse.”

I took a deep breath, my conscience was right…this seriously wasn’t as big of an issue as I was making it seem in my head. I had applied to many graduate schools this past month or so, some had accepted me others I had no chance in hell getting into. This application was different though…this application would send me across the beautiful ocean that put a barrier between my comfort zone & dreams.

“Everyone you meet thinks you’re hilarious & charming just do it.”

After another deep breathe & slight argument with my head, I finished up editing & clicked the shaded “Submit” button reluctantly. I leaned back in my chair, resting the back of my head on the top of the seat.

“Fuck my life.” I groaned to myself.

Never in my life did I ever have much confidence. People loved the work I did, and I had a 4.0 throughout my entire undergraduate experience, but applying to a top of the line grad school in the UK was making my 4.0 seem very irrelevant. What would a school like London Metropolitan University want with just another artsy American tourist like me?

“You’re not just an “artsy American” you’re a phenomenal artist…”

I shook my head, trying to shake away my positive conscience. For once it was trying to encourage when usually all it would do is take me to my lowest of lows. I know it was right, and truth is I was really just trying to find reasons to get out of leaving my small apartment in southern California and going all the way to one of the greatest cities of all time. I’ve always dreamed of going to Europe, I just never imagined going alone and honestly that would be the only way considering none of my friends had the bright idea to attend a grad school over there. London was huge, and it was sure to swallow me whole the minute I stepped foot off the plane.

“I need air.” I muttered to myself as I pushed my chair away from my desk.

The air outside was heavy & full of salt, but my only solution to torturing myself inside my head was to run. Running was a way for me to stay in shape without having to be a gym/organic snob and to clear my head when it was full of confidence killing negativity. Today was different though…as my legs raced the familiar sidewalk, it was as if my head was trying just as hard to keep up, if not pass.

“The London Metropolitan University of London, England is sorry to inform you that although your application was well put together, we are not able to accept it at this time…”

That was the only thing I could think of. I was stupid for even putting that application in. They’ll probably deny it for the simple fact that it looks like some joke. In my head the administrators at LMU were all big shots who were proper & prude…looking down on anyone who wasn’t as experienced as they were…I think that’s one of the things that scared me most. A person not respecting my creativity was what scared me most. As my mind went off into a dark abyss, I didn’t realize how fast m legs were pumping and how not aware of my surroundings I was. A loud horn deterred me from my thoughts as a car missed me by inches. I stopped on the corner, hunched forward trying to catch my breath, and regain awareness.

“Get it together crazy, before you end up dead.”

Not sure if dying was the best decision, but at this point my stupidity would quickly consider it.

“It’s just one simple application, worse comes to worse you can just go to grad school here like everyone else.”

I wasn’t “everyone else” though…in more ways then one. Maybe on the outside I could pass for “everyone else” but on the inside I was at a constant battle with a demon that some people were lucky enough not to have. Of course that demon wasn’t always there…no not until a year ago when I first met my now ex boyfriend Rich.

We had one of those “toxic” relationship’s where one second everything was picture perfect & the next we were at each other’s throats. It wasn’t because of normal things that we argued though, it was because of a common addiction we had. I was normal at one point, until one fateful night where Rich promised that he had something that would make me feel like I was on another planet, and I was stupid enough not to deny the euphoric poison.
You’d never be able to tell there was something wrong. I was always smiling, always having a good time, always buried in my artwork and studies. Yeah, on the outside I looked like “everyone else”, but deep down I wasn’t. Deep down I was a monster, an addict. A monster that was bad at saying no, and bad at knowing when too much was too much.
Maybe going to London would help me…

“Yeah or maybe it’ll make things worse…”