Personal Narrative: My Trip To A Community College

After leaving my high school life behind me, I looked for a way to escape my dreary surroundings. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and even if I had, I had no plan to achieve them. I spent my last year trying to enjoy my time and desiring that other people invited me to be in their company that I had no plan for when that last school bell rang. When it finally rang out, I was again lost. The only difference was that I no longer had classes. Going to Rock Valley rectified that. Like other kids going to a community college, I had no direction in my classes and was without an idea about what a degree would get me.
I made trips to Minnesota, using any reason to move to the only place I felt at ease. I needed to find what I did not
While I cannot pinpoint an exact day when I was staying at the shelter in Mankato, I do have at least one day when I was at this shelter. The Space Shuttle Challenger blew up that day. While the event was the talk and attention of most of the country, as a resident of a homeless shelter, it absorbed only five minutes of a day. It was a point of reference. As sad as that tragedy was, I had no idea where my next meal was to think about a group of astronauts and a teacher dying in Florida. That is the thing about life; in that we live it in a rather myopic way. We tend to live it by what is directly in front of
Their dreams were pulled away when one person decided to dominate them. Our society, be it ordinary or fractured, everyone lives in a community where no one is alone. In that context, anyone who is abused will be seen or there will always be some around to notice signs of their abuse. The people that we walk around during our day, many are those who could have helped and yet we have chosen not to help them.
For me, I was a neurotic young man, walking around town. Instead of having a list my favorite restaurants, I kept a note of the water fountains in the downtown. I could not afford the city bus, so I walked everywhere. From Madson’s Grocery store to the downtown Mall to the hotel and the town’s only strip club, there were businesses and offices where people of means would pass me in the street. Yet, I was invisible in a way that was clear to me that they did not want to know that I was there. Whether working, eating at a café, sitting at a bus stop, there were people who deliberately looked away as to not see