I should have taken it as a compliment. Satanic Berkeley however, has a lot to say. I lost my way and ran away. To look back at my experience I see how experimented we all were. I grew to fear my friends. I feared my own mind and that of everyone else- muted forever.
I broke down and fell down the stairs. I lost my keys and lost my newspaper. I sought help but God was shifting. I was loyal to Jesus, but I ripped my rosary off my neck. I looked back at myself for only a few seconds then. Without sleep, I was back in L.A. that very week. I blew it.
My roommate and her friends played with Satan. If not more than half the house felt the same energy oozing off the co-op walls. I fell in love. I dropped out. Love was a mistake. Love was, the house was mine. The boys were mine and the girls my friends. I couldn't find God in a place like this after the angels fell from the sky or the demons unchained in the common space. The parties bumped and the people got triggered. A shot here and there in and around me with music. I was hurt bad.
I still dream of college life. I lived it and know what it's about. I don't want to do the same mistakes hanging around the wrong crowd. I expected new experiences but my values and lifestyle conflicted with the new people I was hoping to befriend. After all of this, I still have some college peepz on my Facebook that I partied with but it wasn't that serious. I think about deleting them but then I remember how great school felt because of Facebook and I still want to feel the old me is around. The scholar. The Latina. The leader.
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