Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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I never really bought into the whole living for the weekend thing until recently. Once upon a time I excelled at faking it. It was strictly a way to try to fit in when I actually wanted nothing more than to crawl into a cave on the side of a remote mountain and either die from exposure or an animal attack, whichever came first.
I instead became a follower. Surrounding myself with friends who would go through the motions—school, sports, jobs—during the week and then spend their entire weekends getting crossfaded in someone's basement before stumbling back through their bedroom windows before their families woke up.
I did it too. Constantly surrounding myself with it and other people. It felt like a necessity to take every ounce of time and attention I had and give it to friends even if they couldn't tell I was actually slowly crumbling inside. Maybe it was even fun at some point. I'm just so far removed to even remember at this point.
But this weekend has been at the forefront of my mind since Monday for the sheer fact that I have absolutely nothing to take me away from my dorm, or the comfort of my bed. I have a plethora of uninterrupted hours in which I don't have to sit in a lecture hall, or listen to Lindsey from the soccer team tell me all the reasons she hates statistics instead of just answering the five questions on our assignment.
I may be the only student out of the forty thousand undergrads who won't be spending their Saturday sweating pure alcohol from their pores at the football game, and that's just the way I prefer it.
"Where is your seat at?" Alyssa's face appears far too close to mine as she stands on the edge of the futon and reaches a hand on the railing to my bed. It's easy to ignore her, and angle my computer screen in a position that blocks her face entirely. I don't even bother to pause my show.
Alyssa doesn't back down. Her face simply appears on one side of the screen. One of us in this room has taken the whole roommate challenge in strides. I, on the other hand, miss my privacy.
After the whole party debacle at my brother's I thought for sure one of us would have requested a transfer. While I hid in my brother's room and fought off anxiety induced waterworks, Alyssa got extremely drunk on free alcohol. I ended up becoming a human crutch to help her make the rocky walk home.
What I believed to be a foreshadowing for a school year full of disagreements and learning to tiptoe around one another, Alyssa saw as a beginning. What her shaman had been talking about when he said we were aligned. Apparently I marked myself as a true friend when I didn't leave her to fend for herself. Little does she know, I did try to leave her until she started walking in the wrong direction when we were leaving the party.
I'm trying to escape this city. Being a suspect of homicidal negligence isn't going to help me.
Call it an oversight by me, but now it's all "Let's go get coffee together!" or "Can I borrow this shirt?" It's what living with Gabi would have been, if Gabi started doing yoga and snorting cocaine in between pranayama breaths. Except Gabi knows me well enough to take my snarls as a warning to back off. Alyssa, however, is still standing next to me, expectantly.
