Sometimes, I really miss how it was before all this. Part of me says to myself that the world hasn’t changed so drastically. I act like life is settling together and falling back to how it was, but it’s not possible and it isn’t true.

Nothing looks like it did. So many small details I won’t have back. Professor McGrath, for example. I loved his classes. I remember walking into them and not knowing anyone. I was kind of getting used to that because I didn’t know anyone at that school for the most part anyways. So, I’d enjoy that ambiguity. It was fun even when I had nothing to compare it with. I remember how I’d have those push pencils for his class. I’d have my legal pad, and I’d be ready to outline every single word that came out of that man’s mouth, because that was the way to get an A in his class. I remember listening so intently to the symphonies. Sometimes, it physically hurt to keep my eyes open when those classes fell early enough in the morning. I loved that feeling walking down fourth floor Lyons. I mean, that is my fucking floor. I’ve had four years of memories in that hall, and not a thing about it could intimidate me. Not like classes in Devlin or Fulton. I walked through the Rat everyday, feeling eyes on me, knowing that no one knew my name. I grabbed a drink, preferably a medium French vanilla cappuccino, and French fries (the best in the world), and lull it back to the Bostonian office where I’d sit in the dark with blue and white Christmas lights, checking my email, attempting to do some reading for other classes.

I miss the smell of the dorms, the comfort of walking into a room filled with people you love and who welcome you. I love that feeling of putting the key in my door and knowing I’m home. It was really great when I walked into my apartment at Algonquin, and when my room was clean and nice second semester in the smaller room. I’d jump up on that huge bed and just curl up. I remember reading all that stupid shit for Feminisms. God, I hated that fucking class. I remember when Matt was new and flawless to me. I loved that feeling of having someone around, having someone so near, who’d save a seat for me at class. I loved Bostonians. I felt a part of everything. I had a secure life. I was thread into my environment. It was nice to feel so home. No one noticed me or judged me when I didn’t want them to. Life was nice back then. I had a really great year. A really great year.