This is a brief poetic essay I wrote two days ago while eating in the cafeteria at the University of Victoria.
Many times I wonder why I am not going to University. As I sit here in the cafeteria, I watch students and faculty walk by... Some are crying, some are laughing. It's raining out there, and like myself, they take shelter with a warm meal.

I take a bite out of my large clubhouse sandwich. This delicious masterpeice, a tri-bread experience of bacon and turkey, is paid for out of my pocket. This money isn't on loan from the government. I have a real-world, sweat-and-tears clubhouse that I earned. Yet the person sitting behind me enjoys the clubhouse just as much as I do. The tomato falls out of my sandwich.

I've seen my friends - - heck, even people within earshot of me right now - - stress about assignments, exams, etc... While I am stressed at work. I don't have to worry about failing, though; my job security is guaranteed. Students are not as secure. Failure will result in loan interest, new living arangements, and a need for a quick job - - Yet I will not panic, as I have a severence package. Still, I watch more than 10 students walk by every minute, all choosing their lifestyle over mine.

What is it that keeps a student here? The huge financial obligation, the sparse professional workplace - what drives students?


The hope of something more, something better. To escape their lifestyle of roommates and dirty dishes. To grow up.

I want to have hope. I want to grow up.
I want a government-funded clubhouse sandwich, god damnit.

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