Member-only story
The worst place you can be is stuck right before rock bottom.
Not painful enough to change.
Just comfortable enough to stay the same.
I’m glad I got arrested that summer of freshman year in college.
What happened, you ask?
After my roommate’s girlfriend left him for another guy, he wasn’t feeling to great. He needed to slow down. The first available option to do that was, you guessed it, weed.
Myself, my roommate, and two other friends sat in my car in the parking garage across the street. We laughed and joked until one of the friends looked in the rearview mirror… “Guys, there’s a bike cop behind us.”
“That’s not funny, man,” I responded trying not to freak out, but when I looked for myself, he wasn’t lying.
Since this has nothing to do with reading, let’s get to the point.
My roommate and I got arrested.
We were booked, questioned about who sold us the drugs and sent back home that night.
The next morning, I didn’t think of it.
But months later, in 2016, when I was back home working my summer job as a lifeguard, I found a letter in the mailbox.
It had a government sigil on it.
Before I had time to think, my heart sank into my stomach.
