Honey |h.s|

One

Carter Honey

Honey seems to be one of the only things to bring me peace anymore.

That and the Buspirone constantly rushing through my veins, really, but the tablet I take twice daily for my anxiety doesn't always do much when coupled with a large hot coffee sweetened with nothing but a dash of oat milk and my staple of honey.

Between the stress of these first two months of college classes, moving nearly an hour away from home, trying to make new friends to add onto the singular one I entered this place with, and adjusting to sharing a living space with someone who isn't my mother, I haven't had much time for my necessary self-reflection to keep my buzzing mind quiet.

I try to convince myself that I have everything under control at all times, tidying up my room and staying ahead in each course I'm taking, but something always stirs things up, making my life a bit more out of order than I want it to be.

This quality of mine doesn't make me uptight, necessarily. I like going out when it isn't too overwhelming, enjoy typical college activities like parties and the drinking, smoking, sex, and socialization that comes with them, and I indulge in the occasional revealing outfit when I'm feeling confident enough for it. I admire those with a more carefree lifestyle, but I always find myself caring far too much about my surroundings to do anything ultra spontaneous.

I was hoping college could at least tweak that mindset a little, but so far, it hasn't budged much.

Growing up in a small town in Vermont didn't help with the current state of my mind, my fear of copious amounts of attention steering me away from doing anything too crazy without some persuasion. Everybody in town would find out when someone did something even remotely worth talking about, and I'm not a fan of that at all. I nearly backed out of the traditional valedictorian speech I was told to give at the end of last school year because of this fear of mine.

I prefer more simple things like talks by the fireplace in the common area, nights at the diner, picnics at the park in town, spending my day in my backyard at home with the bees, or taking the occasional trip to the drive-in. All very small town activities that not everyone enjoys, but situations I find myself thriving in due to the feeling of comfort that comes with them.

My eyes stray away from the neat notes in front of me I've been writing into the pages of one of my many spiral notebooks for hours now, my focus shifting to the world that can be viewed through the makeshift window seat in my dorm to the left of the desk that I'm sitting at, remembering how the cushioned and decorated seat was intended to be nothing but a window ledge upon moving in. I take in the leaves of October shifting from green to orange, the darkness of night that approaches earlier and earlier as the days go by, the students rushing to their proper residence halls after dinner to get ready for their Friday night out, and everything in between.

One thing I love about the University of Vermont is the atmosphere. It feels as close to home as I could find while still seeking out a well-earned prestigious college education. This Public Ivy school that's only about an hour from the small town I grew up in offered me a full ride for my grades while also being affordable enough for my near polar opposite of a best friend to be with me for the ride. It would've been stupid to make any other decision on where to go. We were meant to come here.

I decide to take a brief pause in my attempt at studying, marking my place in my Intro to Psychology textbook with a faint yellow sticky note before gently closing it. I open up one of the drawers of my desk that also serves as a bedside table, smiling when I see the treat I can reward myself with after working for a while.

I pull out the Ziploc bag kept in this drawer of the desk I share with my roommate, Valeria, viewing the cut piece of honeycomb inside of it that's similar to those stored with the rest of our snacks and opening it up. I take the sticky substance between my fingers, taking a bite out of it and letting the smooth sweetness coat my tongue and leave a saccharine trail down my throat with my swallow.