Pandora’s Box

I was 22 when I first stepped onto the campus of St Pete College. Excited about the classes I had chosen, I met Jason under an oak tree to give him a check. He had loaned me the money to enroll that semester, and I was anxious to repay him. He was surprised that I’d paid him back so quickly.

We went our separate ways to our classes, as he was in his last semester, and I in my very first. I’d never dreamt I could ever go to college. In the 4 short months we had known each other, he had opened my eyes to doors I never thought were meant for me. He had told me that I was smarter than I gave myself credit for, and could do anything I set my mind to.

I walked across the campus, the sun bright in my eyes, a slight breeze blowing, my schedule and notebooks in hand. Speech, Comp I, and Humanities were the first three classes I had chosen to take this semester.

A world unlike any other was before me, and would set my feet on a path of curiosity, concepts, and connections. Little did I know that these classes would form the foundation for my ever-seeking knowledge, feeling unsatisfied with “normal society”, and my unnamed faith.

Pandora’s box had been opened, and I would be unable to, for the rest of my life, close it again.