Emotional Containers

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

Loneliness

The close conversation had reached that point where we had run out of superficial, cheery things to say.  I wrung my hands as a thought forced itself into speech: I had been afraid that saying it aloud would make a tentative idea more real than it actually was, but I couldn’t help it, it had been haunting me for too long:

“Um, I don’t know,” I began slowly.  “I think, more than anything, I want to be in a relationship.  I know that’s a lame thing to say…I believe in feminism and independence and all that, but…it’s true.”

I lowered my head and blushed as my friend reassured me, but I couldn’t help but taste the aftertaste of a remark that was not articulated finely enough.  Because, in truth, I enjoy being single.  I like going to concerts and kissing strangers without worrying about someone back home.  I like quiet moments by myself.  And I see people constantly holding hands, constantly spending the night in each others’ dorms and I think: I don’t want that.  I don’t want all of that, at least not all the time.  

But I definitely want something.   Continue reading

Glimmer of Hope

For my school newspaper, I was covering a panel about reproductive justice.  One of the panelists said something that changed me a little.  She said, “One of my priorities is to consistently and unapologetically be proactive on my word.  Just because the political climate changes, doesn’t mean that my goals and my values change.  Regardless of who’s in power, regardless of who my constituents are.  What I need to do as an organizer is to change conditions to make sure that happens.  We forget how powerful and impactful people power is.” Continue reading

In the Company of Myself

Recently I’ve been smiling sadly my high school self; I’ve been re-reading some journal entries from her senior year English notebook.  Essentially, she was lonely and confused, searching for a sense of identity and starving for companionship.  She wrote down dreams of long hugs and soft hand touches. Continue reading

Aspiring Author (?)

So, my relationship with writing has been changing.

In case it wasn’t clear before, I used to have serious daydreams about writing short stories and  (once I improved enough as a writer) novels for a living.  I also had a significant interest in STEM too, of course, but I was worried that a move towards that field would be sacrificing my Dream of being a Writer™; I was worried I would be one of the many sad gray souls that chooses the “safe” option over something risky.

Shit changed in college though.  Basically, I realized that I really love Biology.  I took BIOL121 and was the only kid I know who considered it her favorite class (despite my lackluster grade!)   Something about nerdy shit like cell division and alternative splicing just sets my blood on fire, I’m not joking.  I realized that I could enter this field with genuine passion; pursuing Biology no longer felt like a duller “second choice” for me. Continue reading

Monthly Me (Jan ’17)

Safe to say I’ve had an emotionally distraught start to the semester, for a variety of reasons.  But I healed myself, surrounded myself with the right people, and at the end of this dark January, I feel more like the bouyant, happy girl I was last semester — just a little more grown up now.

Continue reading