April 23, 2025 By Nolan J. Reyes
You ever look back at your life and realize the biggest shift didn’t come from all the effort you put in—but from some totally random, last-second, half-assed decision?
Yeah. That’s my story.
I wasn’t a golden child. I wasn’t even a “gets by” kind of student. I coasted through high school like a guy trying to stay upright on a skateboard he never really learned how to ride. Things at home were bad in ways I won’t even get into, but let’s just say the walls felt like they were closing in—tight, loud, and cruel.
By 20, I was stuck. Living in a house that drained my spirit, broke as hell, and grasping at whatever might offer me a way out. I worked minimum-wage jobs. Saved what I could. Took night classes at a community college. I pushed. I really pushed. I told myself I was going to make something out of myself, that this was my shot.
So I applied to universities. Not just one or two—like a dozen. I obsessed over my applications. I revised essays so many times I stopped recognizing my own voice in them. I prayed, even though I don’t really do that sort of thing. And then… rejection. Over and over again.
Every envelope, every email was another slap.
Then one night, I was online, probably doomscrolling, and I came across this ad for a private university. Small school, nothing fancy. Said applications were closing the next day. I didn’t even plan on applying. But it was free.
So I clicked. Filled it out in under 20 minutes. No edits. No second thoughts. Didn’t even send a fresh resume—I just uploaded the one I’d used for job hunting at the grocery store.
A few weeks later, that school accepted me.
The only one that did.
I didn’t get in because I was brilliant or special or even particularly qualified. I got in because I clicked a button while half-asleep. Because of pure, dumb chance.
That school changed my life. Not because it was fancy, or elite, or because it handed me success. But because it was a door. And it was open.
Now here’s where it gets weird. All that hard work? It didn’t feel like it mattered. Not really. The rejection letters didn’t care how many late nights I worked or how hard I fought to stay sane. They didn’t care that I’d bet everything on getting out. But that one lazy, impulsive moment? That one random shot in the dark? That was the one that hit.
I still don’t know how to feel about that.
Sometimes I wonder if hard work is just a story we tell ourselves to survive the randomness. To keep grinding even when the odds are cosmic-level stacked against us. Or maybe it’s all a mix—work and luck, sweat and timing, desperation and a well-placed mouse click.
Either way, I’m still here. Still climbing. And even if the ladder was rigged, I’m damn sure not getting off it now.