[ Monday, August 30, 2004 ]
"What you want might make you cry/What you need might pass you by"
Wipe away a few tears, not making eye contact with any drivers stopped next to me at the stoplight.
8 a.m. lecture on evolution. Paying to learn something I don't even believe. So begins my first day back to college.
I don't want to be here.
Don’t want to see anyone I know because I can't lie. I can't put on a cheerful grin and make up stories. I don't want to hear that generic question: "So how was your summer?"
Go back and forth between bookstores, trying to find the best deals on used books. But they're all sold out, and I don't have any money to pay for them anyway. Sit on a bench, waiting for my dad to call, thinking that maybe I should've in fact taken this semester off. But what would I have accomplished besides getting behind? That's no accomplishment. Still, as I sit there, it starts looking like a damn good plan. Maybe it'd help me get my life back together.
Shit! I tell myself, when I can't hold back the tears any longer.
You couldn't even last two hours. Pull yourself together. I've turned to cursing in my head now.
It's never the same, you know. But I didn't think it would be this hard either.
Walk through waves of students I'm glad I don't know. Because then I don't have to try. God knows, I'm tired of trying. Don't take any fliers from outstretched hands. But I still remember to say, "Thank you."
My dad calls. Pass by a sister who calls out my name, flashes a smile, and waves. I cringe. I give her a fake smile as we walk passed each other, not wanting her to notice that I'm about to cry again. You can always differentiate between the acquaintances and the friends, because the former actually buy it. End my conversation with my dad so he won't notice that I just can't take it anymore.
I'm not the same person I was a few months ago. Or even a few days ago for that matter.
Bump into a classmate from high school. We used to go to protests together. Try to carry on as normal, despite the tears that are now obviously falling. I'm a mess. She asks what's wrong but when it's clear that I don't want to talk about it, she gives me a couple of long hugs and then goes to class.
His words keep going through my head. No matter where I am or what I'm doing. There's no silencing them.
I'm hiding. Even when there's no escape. After what I've gone through, I'm entitled to it.
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