❧ℒ.

Or weaker. Or lonelier. Or more bitter.

I’ve only worked out these past three days and it’s like every single body movement will evoke some sort of pain. Maybe if I stay very, very… very still for the entire day, it won’t be as bad.

Yeah, but that’s never going to happen.

I cry when I think of you. I don’t cry uncontrollably or all the time. I hurt when I remember how far you are and the great the lengths it takes to get to you. I don’t hurt tremendously or all the time. It just drives me crazy when I see you there, sitting on the couch of my living room. Lying down on my bed. Waiting for me downstairs while I step out on my balcony. Walking down the street with me as I head to Main. And it almost makes me go insane when I feel you next to me. I subconsciously feel your arm slip around me but… I have to remind myself that you won’t be there next to me, physically, to hear any offhand, ridiculous observations of mine. That brings me to the realization that you really are as far as you are. But in reality, you’re everywhere. My slate has been marked and scarred. You’ve left your impressions on my pillows, my walls, my home, my neighborhood, my entire city. Our city. And I can’t shake you. 

And I’m staying here in the city, finalizing any details for starting college in the spring and working full-time. Inevitably, I am bummed. I’ve never been this far from him for such an extended amount of time. But more than that, I’m excited for him. And I’m excited for us. I feel like this will give us new opportunities to really be grateful for each other. Yeah, it sounds corny. I realized that when we saw each other every day in high school, though, I’d take advantage of the fact that it’d be fine if we were fighting because I’d just see him tomorrow and we would work it out then. Now, “tomorrow” means “in a few weeks.” Maybe even in a month. And I don’t want to go to bed angry anymore. 

I’m also excited for this new freedom that we’ll have. I hope to go up there on my own and spend the night with him. It might seem like a given that couples, especially our age, do that but in all three and a half years of our relationship, I’ve never actually had the chance to wake up with him. 

To say I’m going to miss him would be such an understatement. At first, I was worried that I would never stop grieving over his leaving. Everywhere I would go and everything I would do in the city would remind me of him. Even my home, my room, my bed would bring me memories of him. And yes, it still hurts to know that I won’t be able to just take forty-five minutes’ worth of two trains and a bus to get to him but a coach bus for three and a half hours instead. To constantly sulk would be so selfish of me, though. I’m so happy for him and I hope to support him in all the things he does. 

I withdrew from college. It’s still quite early to really determine anything, but I’m taking the fall semester off to work temporarily and then I’ll start up in the spring. 

I loved Fordham, I really did. I just feel like I romanticized the idea of going there rather than assessing the reality of it. Sure, I would have loved to go to school right by Central Park, Columbus Circle, and Lincoln Center. I would have loved to step outside of school and right into the center of the city. But along the way, I forgot about the more important things, like money. If anything, money was the sole factor that I withdrew. I couldn’t find the means to provide for my education and time was running out. 

The guilt and stress of not being able to make it ate at me, almost literally. I’d wake up at crazy hours in the morning with the immediate feeling of being sick. My stomach felt like it was wringing itself and would stay that way throughout the day. Thus, I couldn’t eat and if I did, I felt like throwing it all up because it didn’t seem likely that it would stay down anyways. It took a physical toll on me and it was continuous. Continuous to the point where it would be tortuous. I would feel this way for days, weeks. I felt this way for an entire month. On top of that, most of the time I’d just feel like listening to sad songs and crying. It was pathetic, even to myself. I would misplace this anxiety and melancholy on the fact that Avi would be leaving for college but looking back, I think I knew better. It was because of school. I wanted so badly to go there and yet I sensed that I couldn’t. 

Last week, I had received an email from Fordham saying that if they wouldn’t receive my fall semester tuition, my enrollment would be cancelled. To call and hear it from another person and not just read it from some email that seems like spam broke me. I couldn’t handle it. How was I supposed to get $20,000 in a week for one semester? Being with Avi only a couple hours after that call, I had to tell him. Knowing what I did and not being able to confide in someone was like being suppressed. As expected, I couldn’t hold it together while telling him either. His being there for me, though, was the turning point of all this. He told me that I had to tell my parents, which he and I both knew was the smartest and most obvious thing to do. How grateful I am to him for holding and helping me will never be able to be expressed in words. 

So yesterday, I took a trip on over to the city at 7 in the morning to try to enroll in another school for the fall. Unfortunately, all spots were filled until the spring semester. I figured that I would take the fall semester off, work full-time for the months that I’m not in school, and start up in the spring. It would cause the least damage in terms of money and may even work out to be better for me. I then went to Fordham and, after running around the building from floor to floor, finally withdrew. I remember that once it had been final and I walked out of the building for the last time, I felt so exhausted that I had to sit down on the steps of what would have been my school. What was my dream school. What, hopefully, I can still aspire for in the future. 

To be honest, I’m not that discouraged. I am a bit nervous but I feel like I can at least expect what’s to come. I know that I tried and I’m going to prepare myself. I still think I’m bright and eligible for many schools. My parents, brothers, and boyfriend are supportive of me and continue to guide me. I don’t think as myself being religious or even spiritual much of the time, but when things like this happen where my life is thrown off course, it’s somewhat comforting to think of it as a message from God. It’s crazy but I can hope.