Coming Home

Because the world didn’t end when you were seventeen.

I have been home for a week now. After not having been here for 93 days, Maryland has welcomed me with a drop in both temperature and gas prices. Here, it feels like I dreamt up the past three months—every class, event, and friend I made. It feels like a dream until I hold in my hands a Christmas card from the closest (and first) friend I made there. Being in college has given me the distinct privilege of leading two different lives on two different coasts. I thought this split would be difficult to handle, but instead, it gives me a lot of comfort. Whenever one life gets to be too much, I seek solace in the other. And when that one is too much, I’ll turn back to the first.

There’s been a trend on TikTok of people (girls, primarily) talking about all the wonderful things they get to do because their life did not end at seventeen. They talk about subtler joys, like watching TV with their partner, and louder joys, like going to law school. I’m not sure if feeling like the world is going to end at seventeen is as universal of an experience as the videos make it out to be, but I definitely remember feeling this way. I feel this way now sometimes, and honestly, I’m thinking the feeling will not have an age limit. But there is something unique about being seventeen, sitting on the edge of childhood and adulthood.

When I was seventeen, my emotions were too heavy for my body. I often reread my old diary entries, texts to friends, pieces of writing, and emails to counselors from the past three years. The world didn’t end when I was seventeen, but how did I make it through constantly feeling like it would? I’m not far enough from these experiences yet to tell you the answers, but I think a lot of being persistent is just staying afloat until you end up somewhere better. It’s passive, but often it is all we have the energy to do. And when you end up somewhere better, you’ll realize how much you are capable of doing beyond just staying afloat. 

I’m hiding what I really mean under metaphor because I’m scared the plain truth may be too blunt. The truth is, don’t die. Maybe you think that it’ll come for you and you won’t fight it, or that maybe you’ll make it happen yourself. The world is difficult, and convoluted, and terrible, but you are here anyways. You owe it to yourself to make use of this potential, to create friendships and accomplishments that outlive their circumstances. So much awaits you. So much becomes available to you when you grow older. Because the world will not end when you are seventeen. Because the world didn’t end when you were seventeen.

I am barely past seventeen, but I have so much I can tell the younger versions of myself about now, even when it seems minor to my current self. My nine-year-old self would be happy to know that I’m still friends with the girls I met in fourth grade, my twelve-year-old self would be happy to know that I’m taller now, and my fifteen-year-old self would be happy to know I ended up at a college that will support my future goals. Now, when the world feels like it’s going to end, I turn to my loved ones, to my music playlists, to the neighborhood roads, and to the movies for inspiration and comfort. I remind myself of how far I’ve come, and how much farther I can go. These days, I often think of that trend, of all the things these girls are able to do now that they’re older: coming home to a partner and a baby, going to graduate school, fulfilling childhood dreams, living in new cities, traveling, settling, loving. Couldn’t these things be mine too?

I’ll close with this poem, “To the Young Who Want to Die” by Gwendolyn Brooks. Often, while writing this, I wished this was my poem because it puts so simply what I’ve taken nearly seven hundred words to say.

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.

The gun will wait. The lake will wait.

The tall gall in the small seductive vial

will wait will wait:

will wait a week: will wait through April.

You do not have to die this certain day.

Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.

I assure you death will wait. Death has

a lot of time. Death can

attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is

just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;

can meet you any moment.

You need not die today.

Stay here--through pout or pain or peskyness.

Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use.

Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.

Moret in Winter, Alfred Sisley (1891)

Good Things:

• The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, Chappell Roan

• NYT Connections

• Fall quarter is over :):):)

• Noah Kahan

• Reuniting with hometown friends

• Updated Leaving Behind Gray playlist

I once again want to echo what I said about Palestine in the last post. On top of the resources listed there, here are some more I’ve found and engaged in since then.

• https://decolonizepalestine.com/

• https://bdsmovement.net/

• bit.ly/BayBridge78

• [US based] If you are also finding yourself increasingly dissatisfied with both parties and uncomfortable with the thought of giving your vote to either, I encourage you to check out https://nationalpopularvote.com and search for the state you are registered to vote in. This website will help you reach out to your legislators advocating for a national popular vote, strengthening the chances of a third party candidate in the presidential elections. 

Stay warm this winter.

Love,

Aarushi.