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I Always Forget My Roomate Takes a Nap on Every Tuesday Afternoon

it is the second month of my second year of college and
things have slowly found their rhythm except
when i throw the door open, back early from a four-hour chemistry lab
brain too fried to notice a body breathing softly on the bottom bunk
and she shifts and oops
college is funny
and this college is funny because when i’m at a party i’m drinking
next to past
captains and valedictorians, high school stars
and next to future
lawyers, politicians, the next Warren Buffett
a Supreme Court Justice, and someday-pediatric surgeons ranting
about the drag of their first college biology class
bouncing well-worn ping-pong balls into cup after cup of Costco pre-mixed margarita

any guy you kiss here might be in the Peace Corps in two years
and the girl who just fell off the table while dancing to Get Low
could have the blueprints of airplane wings on her mind – not at the moment, but
you’d be surprised how well we learn to flip on a dime when our lives
depend on being able to make it to lecture Monday morning

i am writing less now
and i’m constantly asking myself if that means i’m living more or less
than before, for example
if i catch my sorority
slipping towards the top
of my list of priorities one more time, i might scream
internally and do yet another reevaluation of Who Am I, who
is this girl operating this wild, wild time–this life
hurtling forward even when I do not have the time to notice
college is funny
because i’ve had to promise myself i’m done with crying on weeknights
and drinking bubble tea and
seeing myself only in comparison to someone else’s shadow, there are notes
everywhere that i leave for myself as reminders
smile always, love often, look up when you’re walking

you are headed for the greatest of things, never forget
oh, and no chaser




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