For the last six years of my life all I cared about was where my next high was coming from. Nothing else seemed important to me because drugs were all I cared about; my own greatest weakness controlled every action I took. With the aid of my older brother I learned about and sampled mass quantities of every drug made in the area that could be smoked, snorted, or eaten. I set my own limitations, all of which soon dissolved. First no acid, then no coke, then no chiva caps. Pretty soon I'd do any narcotic laid in front of me. I saw no end to it in sight. Eventually I'd stay up for days at a time and just enjoy the high. After being expelled I almost never came home. All I did was run around trying to get more tweaked than I already was. My life had only one purpose, one goal: complete incapacitation. After a while I couldn't take it any more. I couldn't believe this was all I was supposed to be. I didn't know why I couldn't stop myself. My window of opportunity to do something with my life was becoming more and more narrow. If I didn't make a leap of faith soon, it would close permanently. But how could I change something that was not only what I did, but who I was. I decided to close my eyes and jump. A year can be many things. It can be a flash of experiences enjoyed and lessons learned. It can also be 365 days of laborious drudgery. Unfortunately, it can only be what you make it. In the last 12 months my life has changed immeasurably. I dropped out of school and enrolled at Delta College. I made a plan and set a goal for what I wanted from this school, never dreaming of actually succeeding (completing things not being my strong suit). Nothing was left except to wait and see what happened. College was a blur. I focused intensely on all my classes and never missed a day (as unbelievable as it sounds). Somehow I excelled and passed with a 3.6 GPA. Somewhere in-between my menial job and my 35 hours of classes a week I acquired my high school equivalency, got sober and had a son. In December, I became the youngest person ever to become an Emergency Medical Technician, at age 17. My next task was to find someone willing to hire a teenager to save people's lives. I finally found a care facility that would take a chance on me, and now I work 45-60 hours a week giving medications and caring for severely mentally and physically disabled children. Work can be quite a paradox. One moment I could be filling out paper work, the next moment I could be doing CPR on a 12-year-old in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. That can make my time stressful, but the kids have an amazing way of restoring tranquility. I'm now one of those rare people who can say they do what they love, and love what they do. I make a difference in children's lives every day, and that's more than I ever hoped to accomplish. A year really can be whatever you make it. I fit a lifetime of change into one, and every year after this will be affected by the former. In the future I plan to save enough to go to medical school. I'm going to specialize in pediatric surgery and hope to graduate by the age of 30. It'll take time, but what else do I have but time? Who knows what the coming year holds?