Closure

This morning Andrew was sorting the mail. I'm a big fan of mail. I headed over to the mailboxes to check my mail. Inside my box was a small envelope from University of Utah. Finally the last school I was going to hear back from; with this envelope I would get closure. It was small, my hopes were up, and after opening this rejection letter I thought I would finally be able to move on with my decisions for next year. Nothing would be lurking in the back of my mind as slim possibility taunting me about what I could be doing. I casually opened it up. The first line was the usual mumbo-jumbo: we've reviewed your application. But the second line was different - it was an acceptance letter. Then it gave me a paper cut. I'm not excited. I would have been excited if this came a month ago, but as of now I've moved on. With one small envelope my life and choices were rolled back to December. It seems that once I get excited about next year, an assembly of idea of what might happen, or something seems to happen everything changes in a instant. An envelope with my name on it printed by a computer with a photocopy of signature on it and no word of financial aid has thrown me in the mud and is kicking me in the face like Nelson. The first question is simple: who sends an acceptance letter in a small envelope? The second is why so late? I've made up my mind, and here I am thinking about. I need to make a choice. There's no going back this time - my decision is final - well at least for next year. I complain about being accepted into a top 25 program. I have a great opportunity to try what I want, but I'm complaining somehow out of spite. Am I this spoiled? I have no clue what I am going to decide; I have until May 15th.