A lady in the crowd
Picture this, you stay at a residential program for four weeks at UCSD. You mourn in homesickness and tell yourself it's only normal to miss your home. It's a time of confusion as your mind decides to take an indecisive turn. Making it mission impossible to make up your mind. What do you want? What do you need?
Now, what do you really want?
Five minutes have passed and your still silent in deep thought. Allow the flip of a coin as probability decides what really matters. This becomes especially worse at 11:00 PM when it's lights out. You lie in your bed and question whether you should pack up your bags. Give grandma a call, and she'll be here to save the day in a matter of two hours; but no you must finish what you've started.
Your middle finger is left sore from trying to do a topspin at a Volleyball tournament. The ball hardly passes the net, but it was in; and the cheering crowd made up for the pain. Your math teacher Mr. Polo isn't in your dorm sounding like a broken record on repeat when he tries to explain the quadratic formula. You secretly envy Ali Shokzada who aces exams with his eyes closed. Yet you learn to accept that Ali is Ali, and has attended national math competitions since fourth grade. He'll probably become a math sensei ten years from now. He's smart and you're not. You're just average Anne. You learn to accept that Ali is better than you. He'll pass with an A while you'll pass with a low C-. You roll your eyes and shrug it off. Your roommates are done gasping over the latest gossip; and they snore loudly in deep sleep. The day is gone, and you're left alone thinking.
You begin to wonder how much you miss your obnoxious family, how you miss grandma's cooking, how you miss the voice of a heartbroken man who drunkenly sings "Mujeres Divinas," by Vicente Fernandez on a late Friday karaoke night, but how dearly you miss all of your friends. Oddly enough you miss Sammy and wonder what he's doing at this exact moment. Playing smash? Or maybe he's at the hospital checking in on his ill uncle. Perhaps he's playing his Guitarron. You're restless curiosity tells you that you should check out a chromebook from the office and send him a quick message. Then you quickly change your mind because it's none of your business. The chances are that your're well forgotten. As much as it hurts he probably doesn't care or think about you at all. Yet a small hope lives in your heart that he might miss you too, so you sigh and think,"What if?". Then you realize it's 1AM so you shut your eyes and join your snoring roommates.