I don’t do well with people leaving.

My best friend moved away one April day in the 7th grade and I cried on the bleachers during gym class as I watched her say goodbye to everyone.

I shed a couple of tears onto my pillow at the age of seventeen the first night I spent alone after I said goodbye to a friend who only stayed at my house for a couple of days.

I bawled like a baby in the dark, under a tree freshman year when my college roommate of two months told me that she was transferring out.

Sometimes I feel like a really pathetic excuse for a human being.

I constantly claim that I have friends but after an intense amount of thought, I discovered that I was in fact lying to myself for the past two and a half years. I have friends at home. Someone to call if I want to hang out at the mall or go to a concert but here I don’t feel I have anyone like that. I did, one point in time, but both have since transferred out.

There are a couple of people left. Two “maybes” in a sea of acquaintances. I talk to a whole bunch of people but I never hang out with them. Money is the main reason. Time is another. And then I complain about this, receive the appropriate response from people and proceed to realize I come across as someone who needs help. Someone that needs to be cared for and pitied and ugh.

I never felt that way for the first 17 (18…19…2-) years of my life why should I feel that way now? I am not that person and yet I come across that way.

And no, I don’t want to talk about it.

…

I no longer cry when people leave though. A step in the right direction.

The year I stop giving a fuck.

I’m just going to do the best I can in school. Work hard, learn everything, but not burn out.

I’m going to stop caring as much about what other people think.

I promise to be a little bit more selfish but remain caring and respectful.

I want to celebrate life more and associate myself with people that are willing to do the same.

And to me, celebrating life can be as simple as going to see whatever movie is playing in the theaters when your original plans don’t work out.

Spontaneity. I crave a little spontaneity.

When I had my last day of interning last week it didn’t occur to me until 2 days later that it was also the last day I would be wearing cute outfits. Upon this realization, I almost wept (not really because that would’ve been pathetic).

My suitemate informed me I could just wear cute outfits all the time now but I said, “oh haha, but that would be logical!”

Then Monday came and I got to wear intern clothes again for my final presentation.

I will try to wear cuter clothes more often. I swear (maybe). The accessories for each outfit are too awesome to resist showing them off.

This has been a very superficial and girly moment. Thank you and goodnight.

That, and I feel since the whole being an undergraduate is a one time thing, I should make the most of what’s left and stop complaining about stupid crap.

*Pretty positive he’s not depressed or suicidal so I don’t feel bad about being happy he’s a little bit miserable. The moment it turns seriously bad for him is the moment I stop (I can be mean, but I’m not cruel.) ‘Till then, SUCK ON THAT, RISD FELLOW.

“Remember, unless you want to officially cut ties with someone, always give them a way out in conversation. Never be outright with your feelings. You want them to leave the conversation with their pride.”

I flashed back to that day a couple of years ago when it was just her and me.  We went out to have dessert for breakfast and we sat and had a conversation about haircuts and bad roommates.  She invited me to be part of her suite the following year. “You can room with Vladimir”, she said.

Cut to two years later when I’m telling my dad that this same girl and I haven’t exchanged words in over 24 hours. I feel bad. I feel really bad. I shouldn’t because my reasons for not liking her are valid but somehow in the last few months I forgot that she and I were good friends once. She was the only friend I had in this suite in the beginning. We had the best conversations about life that would last for hours and I felt I could talk to her about almost anything…and now…

I don’t know if it can be fixed. I don’t think we can be friends. I don’t talk smack about my friends. If I’m upset with them, I only complain to my parents because my parents are not my peers, so it doesn’t count. I already said so many negative things about her and even if she doesn’t know it, I do and I always will. I’d feel like a fraud.

Tomorrow there is a mediation meeting that includes her and the RA. I wish I didn’t remember that we were friends once.

Scratch that. I wish that we were still friends and that this never happened in the first place.

My vectoring skills are pretty boss.

Have you ever heard of the light at the end of the tunnel? I always understood the concept, tried to apply it to my life but it was always half-assed.

And then I receive the following from a friend:

Check this out. How cool would it be if you interned or volunteered to this organization.

Tunnel, meet Light.

Months spent stressing out; wondering what I’m going to do after graduation. Seeing my dream of changing the world with graphic design slowly disappearing. Having to settle despite the fact I haven’t even entered the real world yet…

Quick glimpse looks promising. I don’t know if I’ll even apply for an internship, much less get to work with the group, but that’s not the point. The point is, I now have hope. There is something out there that combines knitting, graphic design and doing good. I have a dream closer to my original goal. I have something to work towards. 

I have a purpose.

I have a purpose.

…

I think I’m going to cry.