This past semester, I felt locked in a post-you era. Even though, after you said those fateful words — “I’m not looking for a relationship” — I stopped liking you and even stopped hurting for you, I failed to restart, like some stuttering obsolete computer. I felt like I couldn’t, not without some sort of signal to transition. I wanted to flip over the page to the next chapter of my life, but it felt like the same chapter kept going on and on — even though different stuff started happening, even though you stopped being a character. I guess I wanted to look up at the night sky and see the stars aligned in the words: THE END. I wanted a sign.
But now, the semester is over. There is no boundary as definitive as the beginning of sweet summer. I brush the dust of you and my leftover feelings into the container called Freshman Year and seal it off for good. Continue reading