Dear Academic Self,I think I want us to be done. I want this to be over. We have spent years provoking each other. If I’m being honest, I never feel like I’m giving you my best. I spend so much time trying to please you that I lose sleep. We’ve been together for so long that I no longer know how to define myself if not in the context of you. You drag me around campus and enjoy long nights spent alone. And, I don’t like it. I don’t like the way that you make me feel frustrated by my friends. You’re always emptying my wallet. Sometimes, I’m scared that I resent you because no one else in my family has ever found someone as incredible as you.
You do so much giving, and I do so much taking. You seem content to watch me grow, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to help you grow, and it kills me. I might not be intelligent enough or strong enough to make it through these next four years. In high school, it was easy to pretend that I wasn’t using you, because I was still basically a kid. Now, though, I am constantly using your connections and the gifts you’ve given me to meet other people. I’m not even sure, most days, if I actually love you. I don’t think I’m capable of appreciating you for all that you are. I think that other people will come along and delve into parts of you that I could never even dream of. Maybe they will provide you some sort of comfort. I have always been very good at raising questions, but never at finding answers.We are both so conflicted, influenced by people who are no longer even around. I was told for a long time that I would never even meet anyone like you. Brown girls like me stayed close to home and took care of their families; they didn’t run off to a college that’s 1,000+ miles away and suffer paycheck to paycheck to pay for a $60,000 education. A song that I like, “Diazepam,” has this line: “It was always a dream just to know you.” And now that I know you, I’m overwhelmed. The reality is so much harder than the dream was. We fight. We disagree on things. We operate on different schedules. Sometimes, your friends are stuffy and mean.I wish this was a break-up letter. But I can’t put an end to this. Because sometimes your friends are kind and they believe in me in ways I’ve never experienced before. You introduce me to people who understand the parts of you that I don’t; they tell me stories about you, and I am awed by my ability to interact with you every day. I think about the people who don’t know you. I’ll bet they’re happy. They might not know you, but they have other ways of feeling fulfilled. They have something—good jobs, or great friends and family, or a hobby that makes them feel alive. I don’t think any of that could make me feel like you do, though.I also know that some of them spend their lives looking for someone like you and just don’t get the chance. I am so incredibly lucky to know you. You broaden my horizons and push me to be the best version of myself. I know that not everyone feels this way about you, but I also know that someone else must. I know that I’m not capable of knowing you as fully as you deserve. But I also know that you’re just looking for a friend to exchange ideas with. I know that your favorite part of our relationship is the conversations we have, and that that’s why you don’t mind being alone a lot of the time. I know that other people will come along and help you understand other parts of yourself, and I will be comfortable with that. For now, I am just a girl opening her mind and her heart to a part of herself that has always welcomed her with open arms. Even when things get rocky. Even when it would be easy to give up.
We’re going to get through this. Together.
Best wishes,
Paola