College Was a Scam, And I’m $60K in Debt to Prove It

I remember the exact moment I realized I’d been scammed. I was hunched over a cracked bathroom sink in my off-campus apartment, staring at a stack of final notice bills: rent, utilities, even a warning from the college itself about unpaid tuition. My hands were shaking. My checking account had $12.74. And I was $60,000 in debt with absolutely no idea how I was going to climb out of it.

I was 23. And the future I’d been promised: that golden, glossy dream they sold us in high school assemblies and college brochures was crumbling faster than I could breathe.

They told me college was the key.

They lied...

I was a straight-A student. First in my family to even think about college. Everyone was so proud. Teachers patted my back, guidance counsellors grinned, my mom cried happy tears when the acceptance letter came in. It felt like I had finally done something right in this world.

But right from the start, something felt off.

Orientation day was all balloons, pizza, and motivational speeches about “unlocking your potential.” But I looked around at the other kids, some with parents hugging them goodbye, others already chugging beer behind the dorms and I felt this gnawing emptiness in my chest. Like I was stepping onto a train I didn’t actually want to ride.

Still, I smiled. I faked it. Because what else was I supposed to do? Go back to my small town where dreams go to rot?

I signed the loan papers like everyone else. Click. Click. Sign here. Another $10k. Another $15k. No one warned me about interest. No one told me I’d be paying this off into my 40s. They just said,

“Don’t worry it’ll all pay off once you graduate.”

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

By junior year, I was drowning. Not just financially but emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I worked two jobs. Night shifts at the gas station and weekend shifts folding clothes at the mall. I’d come home and collapse, too exhausted to study, too behind to catch up. My GPA dropped. My health crumbled. I developed chronic migraines and couldn’t afford to see a doctor. Sometimes, I skipped meals just to buy books I barely had time to read.

And still, the loans kept stacking.

Each semester, I’d log into my portal, watch the numbers grow, and swallow the panic. They made it seem normal. Like debt was just part of the college “experience.” Like being thousands of dollars in the hole at 21 was some kind of rite of passage.

Meanwhile, I knew classmates who dropped out and started businesses. Some who went to trade schools and now earn six figures. Hell, one guy I knew became a full-time welder after high school and just bought a house.

Me? I graduated with honours and a price tag that feels more like a punishment than a reward.

They don’t tell you how quiet it is after graduation. No more advisors, no career support, no “we believe in you” pep talks. Just a cold inbox full of “Your payment is due” emails and rejection letters from jobs that want 5 years’ experience for an entry-level role.

You start to question everything.

Why did I need to take $4,000 worth of general education classes I don’t even remember?

Why did I trust people who made money off my blind faith?

Why do we still pretend college is the only path to success?

I’m not saying education is bad. But the system? It's broken. It’s a cash-hungry, soul-sucking machine that preys on hope and punishes those who dare to believe in it.

I wake up some mornings still angry. Other mornings, just numb. I make my $300 loan payment every month and watch my balance barely move. It feels like trying to empty a flood with a teaspoon. Sometimes I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Other times, I cry. Quietly, in the shower, so no one can hear.

This isn’t the life I was promised.

But it is the truth.

And if you’re 17, sitting in a guidance office with a brochure in your lap and a pen in your hand, ready to sign the next four years of your life away…

Pause.,.

Ask questions.

Do your research.

Don’t just follow the path because it’s paved.

Because sometimes, the road they tell you leads to success?

It’s actually a trap.

And I’ve got $60K in debt to prove it. I still haven't paid some thinking every night what am I gonna do...