Type3

The darkness of college is ultimately summarized by this:

A person watches a scary movie and then says, “I can’t go back to my room alone,” and gets the most scary dude to come with her. And ultimately, it never works out between them—because the dude is literally in love with someone else, and he doesn’t even know it.

Can you believe that?

Can you believe an adult would actually look at another woman like she’s his mother—and still decide to date a girl who’s basically the subject of everyone’s attention in a very “prestigious” (I’m being sarcastic) racist setting?

This girl is a target of white supremacist attention. Literally everyone wants to sleep with her because she fits those plain, white-preferred features. But nobody actually wants anything with her beyond that—just to sleep with her and then discard her within the larger context of this terrible place.

When a girl is afraid of the dark in a place like this, you realize there must be a lot of scary things in that darkness. And ultimately, it’s like you’re going to find the most f****** terrifying shit of them all.

I’m just trying to tell you—she must have seen some shit in that place.

She’s not sheltered from the evil of the world. She has to compete with it every day just to survive, just to succeed. She doesn’t have the luxury of living in La La Land while everyone else is after her—and other girls don’t even like her.

Meanwhile, she’s the one who gets all the guys.

And me? I would go to that trashy diner. I would never see her eating there—but I would see the creatures. I saw the creatures who ate there, and I realized—I’m not one of them.

The lure of that place wasn’t real anyway. It was fake—a product of corporate greed, built inside a white supremacist system. A college gone wrong. Period.

I never really ate there like that, but Supernatural would always play in the mornings. I would wake up early to eat breakfast because there was no other way to do it. If you waited, you weren’t getting breakfast.

I’d get there between 6:30 and 7:30. Usually closer to opening—around 6:30. I’d get the biscuits and gravy every time.

And while Supernatural played, there was something calming about it. It reminded me of home. But at the same time, that whole vibe—the show, the setting—hinted that something was seriously wrong.

Like that woodland, eerie feeling from the show… it matched the place.

And I think about that girl.

One day, when she said she was afraid to go back inside after everything that had been happening—you could tell. I know for a fact she was being bothered by a lot of different things.

She was shivering through that entire movie, sitting next to that freak—who was just part of the system. Just another cog in it. A boy she clung to like a mother figure, expecting him to defend her.

But he couldn’t. Not then. Not ever.

And all you can really feel is sadness—because you can’t do anything for her.

That’s the darkness of that college.

When I would wake up, it was always dark. I’d stay in bed for long periods—depressed, thinking about everything, overcomplicating everything.

And I’ll say this—you shouldn’t let yourself spiral into that darkness, trying to make sense of all the fake shit, all the different “worlds” they show you, trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not.

What’s f****** real?

I remember the pine trees on the way to the diner. Sometimes it would rain. It’d be dark, and I’d have to run through it just to get there.

Sometimes I’d see this woman named Michaela with her boyfriend. Other times I’d be alone, watching Supernatural, with the dark sky outside and the pine trees framing everything—reminding me of what that place really was.

Something evil.

Like the kind of evil the brothers face in the show.

And I wondered—what was she actually facing?

Was she okay?

You can never really know.

Because like me, she was a target of ambition—but in the opposite way. They wanted her to have their children. They wanted her to be something she refused to be.

She had already been abused before she even got there—and they wanted to continue that cycle.

There was nothing protecting her.

Nothing protecting her from her roommate, who fell right into that system.

And who’s to say what really happened to her in the dark?

All those dudes would brag about sleeping with her—like they were just taking advantage of her. And it showed exactly how that school failed her.

It showed how she was turned into this idol for white supremacist desire—when she was never that.

And me?

I was slammed into the back, into some lobby space, because my room was too dark, too smelly to sleep in right away. So I’d end up just taking naps, waking up at like 6, still in the same clothes.

Sometimes I’d shower, then go back to bed, wondering, “What next?”

I told myself I had to eat three meals a day. That was a lot for someone who had never really had to fully take care of themselves before.

But I took pride in it. I made sure I ate.

Most of the time it was still dark. I’d get those biscuits and gravy. My style back then was different—I wore this furry black jacket all the time. When it rained, it was cold as hell.

The main thing is—I never slept in the dark. I always slept with the lights on.

Maybe that’s why it never felt like real sleep.

Honestly, that feels like a civil rights violation if someone were forced into that—but nobody forced me. It was just that f****** smell.

So they’re off the hook for that—but still.

I stayed in the light.

But even the light in that place had darkness in it.

That’s the point.

People put on this fake front—trying to look good—but they carry all that darkness behind them. And they never actually engage with people in a real way.

There was even a drug dealer on that floor at one point—before he got forced out.

And then I moved to the next place.

Objectively, it wasn’t anything special. Nothing to romanticize.

But personally?

I kind of liked the darkness there.

Because at least it showed what the place truly was.