[ad_1]
Letter 1: Just like Summer Camp.
It’s my first week alone. Papi told me that college is like a summer camp, and it feels like it. My hallmates and I are always out, never sleeping before midnight. Going to places I didn’t even know were on campus — like Markley and Baits. We used to sit right by the wind tunnel for the soft breeze. Greeting people I only knew by name, but they always ask me, “Wait, where are you really from?” I guess they’re just interested! I’ve never been to summer camp, but if this is it, I’m happy to know I found where I should be so quickly.
Letter 5: Nobody Saw Me Crying.
I’ve been studying so much that I started crying. We’re not even at the halfway mark and suddenly I have no time for anything. No one has ever seen me cry before. What should I do? What if I’m not meant for this? Why am I even crying? I’ll just go back to my room. My roommate has their friend over. I can’t even mutter a word. I sit on the stairs. My eyes are bloodshot red; I can’t even recognize the footsteps walking past me. No one I know, I hope. But no one asked me if I was okay. No one should even know.
Letter 12: The Sun Sets Before I Can Call Mami.
Mami is a talker, she is a caller. She doesn’t know the sun vanishes at 5 p.m. I usually sit by the window, telling her what I see, what I did today. She says she’s proud, only a few more months. By the time she calls, I am missing from the sky. I’ve already passed the horizon. Nothing can get me out of this hole I’ve created. I’ve lost touch with the reality of summer camp.
Letter 27: I Am Designing Three Shows Simultaneously.
The only way to keep myself awake is by working. I don’t know how I have this much time. I’m taking 18 credits, working three studios and three student productions. I keep saying yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes is my cry for help. And no one knows. Everyone applauds me but my name tag is always spelled wrong. I don’t even know who I am anymore. LED screens and electronic keypads become my voice.
Letter 36: The Winter Never Left.
My sister told me to get help. I’ve been on hold for months. Why find help when I am pumping out so much work — this is the most I’ve done in my life. An email came in, “This seems Urgent, Let’s meet tomorrow.” I forgot I even sent an email to a therapist. I agree to meet. I find myself curled up in a ball in a room that isn’t mine — not like any of this is supposed to be mine.
“I’m sorry, I can’t relate to you being Brown. I don’t know what to say.”
“I can see you’re struggling but I just don’t understand.”
“You seem better already! Let’s stop here.”
Letter 47: The Winter Has Stayed.
Year 2, 3, and 4. We’re going to try again.
MiC Columnist Naomi Rodriguez can be found at nerf@umich.edu.
The post Summer camp appeared first on The Michigan Daily.
[ad_2]
Source link
