We Drink Bubbly Things at the Windmill Park

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It’s Been A While

Dear E,

It’s currently 1:15 am. I just finished packing my suitcase. Tomorrow I leave Texas and fly back to Boston to begin the second half of college.

Where do I begin? I haven’t blogged in months. I believe my last post was sometime in March. I’m overwhelmed thinking about all the things that have happened in the last half year.

My sophomore year of college was a huge “growing experience” for me. Thats what people call it when everything falls to shit. The summer after my sophomore year was even worse. I broke up with a boy I was completely in love with for reasons that are beyond me, I missed getting an A in a class I worked my ass off for by less than one percent, I felt really sad and alone.

Even as I write this I find myself not being completely transparent. Erasing certain words, not wanting to portray exactly how I feel, being ashamed of occasionally feeling sad and lonely. Wanting to justify that my life is awesome. (It is, but that’s beside the point.) Wanting to diminish my issues. (In the grand scheme what’s a B+?)

You, E, are the one who encouraged me to read Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. I read it my freshman year of college I think, but there is one quote I keep coming back to.

“Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.”

That last line has been my mantra the past few weeks.

When I think about my GPA I start getting really overwhelmed and doing all this calculation of all the grades I have to get for the next few years to get where I want to be and do what I want to do (do other people do this? Please say yes) and I have to stop and think that I can try my hardest and perhaps never get where I want to be. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

As you know I’m taking the MCAT in two weeks and don’t even get me started about the stress and anguish it causes me. Sometimes I lose all hope. And I think I’m not gonna be able to save the world I’m not even going to be able to become a doctor, what the fuck am I doing, maybe I should just get a job where I make lots of money and just cry while I wear beautiful red-bottomed shoes. And then I think: Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

The boy….I can’t really even begin to talk about this one. I’m out of words, I’m out of explanations, I’m so tired of crying….it’s never going to be okay…Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

I have beautiful wonderful friends, each unique and special in their own way. I think the people is what have made everything so bearable-my friends and family—they are the ones who have reminded me it’s okay to not be okay. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

Most of the time these days I am fine. Sometimes I feel really sad E. Sometimes I feel really happy. I look at the stars and I wonder why we are all here. What are we doing? Maybe we will never know. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

At this moment in time, 1:56 am, I don’t want to go back to Boston. I know once I’m there I’ll be thrown back into the storm. I’m going to miss being here. I’m going to miss football games, and my mom’s cooking and my brothers yelling and the sweltering heat and the slowness that is West Texas. I’m going to miss music in my car and going dancing with my best friend and eating sandwiches with my toes in the pool. But I need to go back. I need to go back and push myself and fail even more than I did my sophomore year. Because at least if I’m failing I’m doing something. I need to go fight for what I want and get what I’m worth. And then realize that maybe I won’t get what I’m worth. And maybe sometimes I’ll try my hardest and collapse. I’ll put up a good fight and lose. I’ll jump for my dreams and crash into reality. Some things will never be okay. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

Love you and miss you very much,

P