When I was young, I skipped school all the time. I wanted to work to make money. I didn’t care about school. I hated it. It seemed to me that they were teaching me the same things I had learned in third grade when I was a senior in high school.
My mom didn’t like it. My dad wasn’t around too much during my senior year so I didn’t have to worry much about him. Everyone that watched “my hopes and dreams” go down the drain told me over and over again that if I kept skipping school that I wouldn’t graduate.
My mom would try to ground me but I never listened to her. I’d laugh, tell her “whatever” and go drink, party, work, and make money. This was what made me feel good. It made me feel right.
Still, everyone’s opinion that I wasn’t going to amount to anything and that I wasn’t going to graduate because I had missed too much school haunted me so much that I completely avoided my family and friends that kept telling me these things over and over again.
Deep inside, somewhere, somehow, I knew that everything was going to work out. I always knew this about myself. I always had this sure thought – that no matter what people’s opinions were, I knew, that no matter what, everything was going to work out and be just fine.
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