Story of a life

I saw a picture of my high school this morning. An old classmate had posted it on Instagram stories. We do not talk much, or at all, beyond reacting to each other's posted pictures once in a while if they mention a milestone reached. I worked hard to get into that school. The best place you could go to in the city if you wanted to go to Harvard. I wanted to go to Harvard. I had wanted to go to Harvard since I was 11. I had heard that one of my American cousins had earned a scholarship to go to Harvard Summer School that summer. I didn't know what Harvard was. We had internet at the house by then and I knew how to connect the dial-up. In some of the many stolen hours of browsing, I found out it was only the best university in the world. Of course, I wanted to go there. What I would do there, I had no idea, but to Harvard, I was going. I graduated from high school in 2009. It was a tough year. Like the year before had been. And all the years of my life leading up to it. Howe...