When I delve into the deepest parts of my thoughts and am finally honest with myself, I realize many things:

At this age, I want something else. I don’t want to be lying and sneaking around, like a juvenile, modern-day Romeo-and-Juliet destructive escapade. When involved in something like so, I don’t want to be wanting and needing more. I don’t want to look upon others and desire what they want or what they do. I don’t want to feel Envy’s fingers crawl upon my spine and whisper hushed urgings in my ear. 

I never considered writing as a prospect for my future. Ever. With my undeveloped “talent,” there is a one in a trillion chance I would ever make it as a writer. I had always been pushed towards law. My public speaking and persuasive speaking hasn’t been manifested enough. Working for the Assemblyman is revealing all the nooks and crannies of a political office during the legislative period. And now, I’m not moving forward with the same conviction that I had convinced myself I had. I have bent over backwards to make my International Relations education worth the money I am paying. That is the sole reason I am double majoring and minoring and suffering through summer sessions so that I can graduation in four years. But what if I’m hurdling blindly down the wrong lane? What if I’ve swerved into foreign territory and haven’t even realized it? Then by the time I cross that finish line, my time will be thrown out and I will be disqualified from the race.

I care too much. About the simplest of things. I get distracted by the most minute of things. Then I end up losing valuable time I will never be able to retract and am stuck sinking in a merciless pit of quick sand.

I need to wake up.

All I really want is time to myself.

It’s quite possible Georgetown will do me as great of a disservice as I feel NYU is doing to me currently.

I have fallen so far away from faith, that it feels alien to me.

I can’t fix everything. No matter how much my parents depend on me to, no matter how much I am told I have to do this, I have to do that, I can’t. I can’t do what I need to do and tend to their business as well. I can try, Hell, I’ve been trying. But I don’t want to hear how much they hate the other, how they want to hurt the other, how they want to leave the other. As a daughter, what am I expected to do? How can I fix a crevice they have wedged a concrete block between?

1. Become skinny.
2. Tattoos.
3. Get an A in my summer class.
4. Advance in my internship.
5. Begin the memoir Professor Washburn has been urging me to publish.
6. Begin researching a international topic to compose an essay.
7. Lose weight.
8. Money.
9. Attain eternal serenity.
10. Vanquish all emotional distress…for the time being.
11. Build my confidence.
12. Distance myself from the vapid people who drain my life away through their rotten fangs.
13. Be thinner.
14. Repay my debt.
15. Disallow others to define me.
16. Stop bitching.
17. Work on my transfer application.
18. Money.
19. Taste all the wines of the world.
20. Shed away the dead weight and people that hold me down.

Summer in NYC -the time when the most distasteful of NYU scurry back to their dens and homes to explore the multiple faces of superficiality. Such a breath of fresh air…despite NYC air being foul. As I walk through the streets at 8 in the morning, everything seems far more hushed. This environment is such a rare blessing. At last, some sort of peace and calm. And I’m alone.

Perfect.