Every evening they ask 'how was college?' and I say 'good'. The truth is I haven't been to three of my lectures this week. I can't tell them. They're so proud of me. I don't know how to be a disappointment in their eyes, even just a little.
We were inseparable for four years. Then in October she just got quiet. I asked once if everything was okay. She said yes. I haven't asked since. I miss her so much I sometimes scroll through our old photos at 2am.
My grandfather passed away last spring. Everyone told me time would heal it. It hasn't, not really. What's happened is I've grown around the grief. Some days the hole feels smaller because I am larger now, with more room to hold it.
For 12 years I've been 'the smart one'. Now I'm in a place where everyone is the smart one. I got a 62 last week. I cried in the library bathroom. I don't know what's left of me if I take that identity away.
Weekdays I have class. Saturdays I can pretend I chose to stay in. But Sundays — Sundays the silence is loud. I scroll Instagram and everyone is brunching. I'm 20 and I don't know how to make plans without it feeling forced.
Six months ago I was barely getting out of bed. Today I made myself coffee, opened my window, and didn't immediately reach for my phone. It's not a cure. It's just a Tuesday I can stand in. That's enough.
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