He woke up that morning in the dark. His dorm was a mess. And when he flipped the old, rusty light hanging from the ceiling on, there still was a haze of darkness that clouded his vision.
He drank last night. Like every night. The vodka bottle he took to bed with him sat on his sheets. He didn’t make his bed that morning. He never did.
He slipped his pants on, robotically. That was Adam. A robot. Something poked his leg through his jean pocket.
Pulling it out, he recognized his high school ID. Man, he hadn’t seen that thing in years. No telling how many laundry washes the old ID had been through.
He flipped the flimsy card over, stared. He didn’t recognize his high school self. So bright eyed. He had been valedictorian of Mountain High; his parents were so proud of him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he remembered what his dad had said to him after his speech at graduation, “We are so proud of you, son. You’re going to do great things.”
Yeah, great things… that’s what Adam was doing in college. The moment he stepped foot on his college campus, it was like a light had gone out.
Had he been living for his parents all throughout high school? Is that why his motivation, his light had gone out? It was like life had been drained from his body.
He felt ashamed of who he had become, falling from grace. It wasn’t him. His parents said it wasn’t supposed to be him. Seeing that photo of him in high school felt like a stab, a representation of who he could have become.
But today, Adam laid back down on his bed, skipping class. He wasn’t that boy anymore.