Repeating Pattern

Mackenzie Stacy

I hate it here.
I wake up, get ready, walk a quarter mile up the street to the one building I have classes in and come right back to my room. I do the same thing every day, the same repeating pattern every day. I don't do much. Although I am in a group, there isn't much else I do. I attend meetings twice a week to see my friends and then I come back to my room, my jail cell. Everyone is always saying it’s my fault for not doing stuff, but why should I have to drive to do something fun?
Wake up, walk, learn, walk, hangout, walk, repeat.
The same repeating pattern. I see my friends at their schools, always going to parties or going downtown almost every week. I'm not saying I want to party all the time, or at all for that matter, but I want to be able to do something other than homework or watching movies.
I’m not saying this is the worst place on earth. There's a lot worse things I could be doing with my life. I mean, I was the one who decided to come here. I had planned on attending a different school, a bigger one, but I didn't want to go far away. I felt like this was the best option for me. Only being 40 minutes away, I could return home whenever I wanted or see my grandparents. My grandparents are my two favorite people in the world: always encouraging me to do new stuff or inviting me over to hangout. If I was to leave, who would help them figure out their technology problems? But I came here. I know there are things I could do other than the same repeating pattern, but I have no motivation. I don't want to burden my friends with this feeling because the only reason I am still here is because of them.
Wake up, walk, learn, walk, repeat.
And I only have the same two classes in person. The rest of them are online. I guess I did that to myself so I wouldn't have to deal with the same pattern over and over again, Monday-Friday, nine months of the year, year after year for four years.
That's it. Nine months, 2 1/2 more years. Then I’m done.
My mom tells me that this school is too small for me, that somewhere out there is a school that is bigger and better for me. I've always had such an outgoing personality, but it has been limited to the amount of friends I have.
One college, one place that I have desired to go since I first started applying to schools. I've only been there twice but both times I have fallen in love with it all over again. The squirrels running right by your feet, not having a care in the world. The bright orange, yellow, and red foliage in the fall. The giant stadium filled with cheers from the crowd as the home team scored yet another touchdown. The amount of dorm buildings you pass by as you walk, wondering who's living in them and what conversations are being had.
Friendly squirrels don’t exist here. The thought of approaching a human being scares them, frightened of what might happen. The foliage is pretty, but so little to see unless you leave this
place. No loud cheers come from a stadium because why would a football team exist at this place? There aren't many dorm buildings either; we only have five compared to the twenty I saw on my walk at the other college.
A forty-minute drive home. The temptation to want to leave and just do everything online grows more and more every day. I feel like something else is out there for me. But I will continue this repeating pattern.
This wake up, walk, learn, walk,
repeating pattern.

Mackenzie Stacy is a 19-year-old student from Tyngsboro, Massachusetts. She is studying Business Administration with a concentration in Accounting. Mackenzie works at her job, hangs out with friends, and spends time with her family.

"Campus life in the fall" by John-Morgan is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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A magazine for teen writers—by teen writers. Under the Madness brings together student editors from across New Hampshire under the mentorship of the state poet laureate to focus on the experiences of teens from around the world. Whether you live in Berlin, NH, or Berlin, Germany—whether you wake up every day in Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, North or South America—we’re interested in reading you!