Dear Future Children..
Dear Future Children I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not like everyone else and I never will be. When I tell you about my college days, I won't be telling you about studying abroad or touring with the choir or the mission trips I went on. I won't tell you about being the president of this club or the secretary of that one. I won't be telling you about my job at the library or at admissions. Because none of that happened. Not to me. I will, however tell you about 6 concussions, countless migraines, sleepless nights, that one class I barely passed, and that one professor I loved and who retired too soon. I'll tell you about my favorite introvert retreat spots, the balconies overlooking the woods and the Beaver River. I'll tell you about 3 school years (4, by the time you hear about it) that I spent in the dining hall as a nondescript dishroom worker. I'll tell you about the opportunities I continually passed up and how I wondered all the time