Imagine yourself a freshman in high school, beginning your independence. You keep telling yourself this is a new world full of opportunity, a fresh start, and whatever lies ahead is whatever you shape it to be. Then you realize it is not as simple as you wished it to be, because you are not a freshman, this is not your first day of school. You might be a freshman in that sense that you do not know the school really well and you do not have any friends in the school. But this is most definitely not your first day, you have had your first day, in fact, you have had your first three years. You are just coming into a new school. .
It all began on a summer morning, when I received a letter that I have been expecting. "Dear Gene Wong, I am sorry to inform you that- I did not need to read any more of it, after the first line I knew what the letter was about. I have gotten many of them over the summer, University of Waterloo, University of Toronto, University of Western, and "Queens University" was printed on top of this letter. So that was it, which was the last one, last university that I applied to. I sort of knew all along that I would not be able to get into any university, but this made it official. It has been a long summer of torture, every time one of my friends would talk about university. What they are doing, where they are going, I would automatically be overwhelmed by a sudden swarm of sorrow and hidden ignominy. Of course I try to play it off, pretending to be interested and happy for them, but in reality it was like being thrown into a bottomless pit, where my body lays helplessly on the ground, all the joints and bones are broken, and all that I would feel was the cold rough surface that my face was on, looking mindlessly sideway into a place where only darkness existed. I knew I had to pick myself up; there is no point of hiding and self-pity anymore. It is time to face reality and deal with all my burden.
