[ RF ] Let 's stop for a moment with all of those `` paranormal '' scary stories . Write a terrifying piece that could really and plausibly happen to anyone .

`` Come in. Sit, please.'' 
 
 I closed the door behind me but kept my eyes on the rug as I sat. I did n't want to look the PhD coordinator in the face. Faces are too inevitable. Faces are too full of disappointment. 
 
 `` David, I think it's time we made it official.'' 
 
 I disagreed. 
 
 Two years. Two years since I quit my job and moved across the country. Two years since I had left everything behind, which was n't even the firm border of consequence I'd like it to be. 
 
 `` As you know, we have a high standard for achievement within...'' 
 
 How long had I planned on doing this? How many years had I kicked the can down the road before pursuing this? Three years? Five? Seven? I did n't like to think about numbers anymore. I was n't as good with them as I had always thought, anyways. 
 
 ``... and sometimes a doctorate is n't what's best for everyone...'' 
 
 What was best for me? I was bad at everything. I used to be a good student, but I was bad at that now. I had always been bad at my job. Had become a worse friend by the day. As far as I could remember, I had been a terrible boyfriend, not that she cared anymore. 
 
 ``... we're willing to offer financial support through the end of the month while you transition...'' 
 
 My job had transitioned to someone with a lambskin diploma from a private school. My friends had transitioned to someone who would actually hang out with them. My college girlfriend had transitioned to someone who would commit and succeed. My family had transitioned to grandchildren. My attention had transitioned out of this room. 
 
 ``... do you have any questions?'' 
 
 Where do I go now? How do I tell people I made it two years in a program before they threw me out the door? How do I answer people when they ask what I do for a living? What was even the point of living? Where, exactly, was I supposed to keep living? 
 
 `` No.'' 
 
 No. 
 
 Maybe I was n't supposed to. 
 
 Maybe if I could n't hang on for three years, there was no need to hang on another night.
