Twenty years ago I used to sit in a classroom, barely learning, sleeping in class, and somehow getting good test grades. That's the part of our lives most can't see; twenty years later, I’m still trying to forget.

My dogs, Star and Scruffy, wake me up. They are medium-sized. Light enough to pick up, but too heavy to be purse dogs. It’s six o’clock in the morning. I flip the heavy covers off of me. I stayed up too late last night. I can't stay up till three and still be wide-awake like I used to. I feel my feet touch the thin, purple carpet lying on the floor.

I walk into the kitchen. My dogs follow. I give them their preferred ‘bacon’ flavored treats and start to prepare food for myself.

I take a pan off the wall and set it on the stove, start toasting two pieces of bread and cook three eggs scrambled, I add cheese to the eggs and pan fry three strips of bacon. This bacon smells more appetizing than the treats. My dogs wait at the door while I eat breakfast then I bring them outside.

I smell the freshly cut grass on my lawn in the crisp spring air. It's refreshing and brings me peace, if only for the moment. I bring the dogs inside and head to my office room. A black laptop sits on a desk melding into the murmuring darkness, invisible except for the bright green logo on the top glowing as if to direct the way to my desk.

I sit down in front of my computer and let out a gentle sigh. “Another day” I utter in a cynical tone. I log on to my computer and review my emails; four recent requests. Two of them for technical support, one for help with designing a website, one from my friend. I opened the email from my friend immediately. My friend emailed me a picture of him and me from high school. I saved the picture on my computer, then filed it away.

No matter how much I want to forget it, those were the best days of my life and the easiest too. I got to see my friends every day, the few I had, the classes were way too easy, and the teachers were… mostly nice. No one sees that until now, we took those years for granted. Now that we opened our eyes, it's too late to change what we did. The past is done and gone but will never be forgotten.

I never made it to college since I did not apply myself in school. Now, I do freelance work helping with designing websites, coding games, and on the side psychological help for people who need a person to talk to. Although I am not a therapist. What's the difference you ask? I don’t just spout off a script that makes people think they feel better. A therapist simply asks you how you feel and no matter the answer, they always just say what a shame take these pills while charging you a week's salary...