Lying in my bed last night, as I listened to a chorus line of mice grapevine across my floor and watched spooky shadows make hieroglyphs on my ceiling, I fell into a minor panic regarding the fact that if I drop out of law school, I will undeniably end up like that woman with no legs who I saw begging on the street the other day or, worse, like that girl from high school who is still working at House of Wings (it’s not even Hooters! it’s a poor man’s Hooters).
I’m not sure how we arrived at loss of limb (mine or that of the buffalo) but, in that dark moment, I was convinced that quitting law school would lead to a life of hot pocket dinners and over-the-counter highs. “How tragic,” people will whisper a little too loudly when they see me at the off-ramp with my spare change sign and/or hot wings with blue cheese dressing. “Did you know that she was in law school once? What a shame to see such a tragic waste of potential. I said, TRAGIC WASTE OF POTENTIAL.”
Anyway, I got over it. I figure that pretty much anything shitty that might happen if I quit law school (hate my job, crazy new roommate, general malaise) could just as easily happen if I stay in law school, except that I’ll have $3,000/mo debt payments to fan the fire.