Fate Exposed

*Morgans POV*

The next couple of weeks went by, not slowly, not quickly, not excitingly and certainly not happily but they went on. I spent the time writing essays, reading, and being your typical college kid. Which in all honestly, I probably wasn't your typical college kid. I spent a lot of the time writing things in my journal as well.

I miss Matt. I missed knowing that he is my boyfriend. I miss his presence, his texts, his calls. I miss him. The only good thing that has come out of this odd break up situation is that I've had more time to focus on my school work. And in a way, that's what scares me the most. All through high school whenever someone bailed on me, or I didn't have anyone to hang out with I always looked at it from a positive point of view and decided that it was okay because school work should come first and that will benefit me in the end. It doesn't benefit you in the end. Anyone who tells you that locking yourself in your room to study for hours on end in order to get a nice letter on a paper will benefit you is fucking insane. Being with people will benefit you. Having interpersonal interactions will benefit you. Being alone all the time will not. It will make you a mess. You start to overthink everything because your brain is so use to thinking and contemplating things and finding answers. Not everything in life has a fucking answer. It makes you nervous to talk to people. You start to think that whatever you say annoys them. They could do something as simple as sigh and you think that you cause that sigh. It ruins you. And that's what I'm terrified of. I'm terrified that I will become that person in that room, anxious and alone. And there I go, overthinking everything once again.

Everyday seemed to have the same type of routine. I would get up, not willingly, and prepare for my day. Then I would head to my class, listen to some lectures or hand in an essay and when those hours ended I would go to another class or I would be free. In the event that I was free I normally walked around the campus, or around the city. I did whatever I could to stay out of my dorm and get my mind off of things. It was inevitable though that at one point each day the depression would hit me. The depression was always hitting me but it got considerable worse. It got to the point where I could not do anything due to my lack of motivation. I was empty.

Today started off similar to that, except there was a change in schedule when my English professor asked me a question.

I woke up at 9:00, grabbed my clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom. I always dreaded the walk to the bathroom in the morning, fore it was cold and made me miss my house more than anything. Sharing a bathroom with fifty other people is most definitely on my list of most hated things on earth. I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair and changed into my clothes for the day; a pair of black jeans, ox blood doc martens, a tank top and a plaid fleece. It was December, and winter in Boston was unpleasant, you could say and since people here, including myself don't actually like to wear coats and jackets, you have to dress for the weather in what you wear.

As for the exciting part of my day; after a lecture about the book 1984 by George Orwell and the class was dismissed the professor pulled me aside.

"Morgan, could I talk to you?" The middle aged man, with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose asked.

I simply nodded my head and walked closer to him.

"I wanted to ask you about your poems, the last couple of poems you passed in concerned me. Is everything alright?"

Every week in this class we had to pass in a minimum of 3 poems each week. I enjoyed writing poetry but recently my poems have gotten increasingly depressing.

Somewhat annoyed by the question, I answered, "I think everything is alright. Sometimes in writing I find it benefits both the reader and the writer to exaggerate."

The professor raised his left eye
brow, "as ambiguous and exaggerated as your poems are, these ones have been clear in their meaning when you look for it."

I nodded my head. Part of me was annoyed that this professor cared so much about my writing when he barley even noticed me before today. But another part of me was proud of myself, he actually read my poetry, and tried to interpret it. He even called them ambiguous, the greatest comment of all. I always tried to write vaguely. It made me feel proud to say the least.

"Morgan, I am concerned about you. I think I understand what might be happening in your life right now" the professor spoke.

"What" I said softly.

"You recently experienced a break up with your boyfriend and you're confused as to why it happened. Well it you're that confused then maybe it wasn't supposed to happen or maybe you shouldn't be worrying about it. You see, I am a person that believes everything happens for a reason and If you and your ex-boyfriend are both confused as to what happened to your relationship then that's a sign. That's a sign that things will work out. Humans don't like to be confused, they like answers. And that's where fate comes in, and your fate will soon be exposed" He explained.

I nodded my head, absorbing all that he had to say, "thank you actually I really needed to hear that."

The professor nodded and I walked out of the class. It was amazing how he interpreted my poems, and how he knew exactly what to say. Deep down I thought that my relationship with Matt was okay, but I wanted to know that it was okay.

For the entirety of the day I walked around Boston, it was nearly freezing outside but there was something about the cold that I had always enjoyed. Although I tried my best not to think it, the thought that Matt might find a new girlfriend constantly popped in my head. I had to keep reminding myself of the reality of it all and the fact that he was a famous singer.

Notes

another short chapter, with a lot of description because its a filler; sorrrryyyyyy :P