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Do you see her? In line at some coffee shop waiting for her skinny latte. She holds her pink

encased iphone latest gen with her french manicure. Taps her sparkly uggs, you can pick the color

of them. Today is Monday. She has most of her classes in the morning, its her lazy day. The yoga

pants with victorias secret pink written across her butt distract you. Sometimes theyre black or

actually pink. Her black northface jacket looks too big for her. But that’s how she likes it. Her hair

is pulled up into a messy bun at the center of her head, the stray hairs look like antennas popping

out of the top of her head. She looks tired: the dark circles no concealer could disguise hang low

on her otherwise perfect skin. But you’re probably not thinking it was to study for her anatomy

exam she did well on this morning. But she doesn’t know. She’s afraid she bombed it. She purses

her lips and peers at the guy digging through his bag for his crumpled up cash.

Do you see him? His bookbag is bloated, ready to burst if you hit the right spot. He finds the cash

his mom provided for him earlier this morning, he feels guilty. He refused the lunch she made him

deciding he’d look too ridiculous. He orders his average sized coffee, with the average amount

of cream and sugar. Average, average,average. He doesn’t wear anything on his own accord. The

polo, jeans, and sneakers all chosen by a family member at some point in his life. Just like his

career. He goes to zip his change into the bag, but a calculus textbook jumps out and sprawls itself

out on the floor. Carelessly, he tosses it back into incarceration. Scurring away to study,but his bag

can’t hold everything inside. Sheets of paper fly out, leaving some sort of trail. You pick them up.

One is failed chemistry quiz, 23%. The other is a draft of the best piece of science fiction you’ve

read in a long time. But he doesn’t know that. He’ll never know it because he’s trying not to flunk

out of a pre-med program.

Do you see them? Archetypes by appearance around campus. But you don’t pay attention, you’re

too busy yourself being afraid. Frightened for what’s next. What happens after your undergraduate

career? Graduate school? Professional school? they feel like the only options. At this point, unless

youve got a fairy god mother watching over you, it seems pretty damn impossible to do something

you love, get paid appropriately, and live happily ever after without judgment. We all may fall

into a certain category on campus, or we’re trying to separate ourselves from a cliché, but we can’t

shy away from what if not all most are afraid of. A bachelors degree in your room at your moms

house and some obese asshole shouting that he needs an order of fries with his big mac.

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