The life of a not so average girl doing not so average things.

Professors That Care

My professors genuinely care that I’m hurting. You can see it on their faces. First there is the look of concern, sometimes this looks a little forced. When I explain why I won’t be in classes Thursday evening or Friday, why I cry at seemingly random moments, their faces change. It’s the pain in their eyes that makes my breath catch every time, because it almost echos the pain in my heart. They hurt because they are unable to make this right, unable to make my pain stop. There are no clear words of wisdom that will make things better, time is the only healer in this horrible situation and it kills them. It’s not just professors, it’s the adults and mentors in our lives that hurt in this way when we are suffering. They see themselves as the people that are supposed to be able to mend our broken hearts, but the truth is they too are human.

Some of my readers seemed shocked by my anger toward God, others know where I’m coming from. They’ve been where I am and know that it will be ok eventually.

For the record, I have not turned my back on Him. I’m just angry. It’s times like this where living in a dorm is really inconvenient, because what I want and need most right now is to just scream. Back in high school, when Annie died, I went for a drive. It was just me and I screamed and ranted and questioned God until I was crying so hard that I had to pull over. That’s when my healing began, because I was able to just get it out. I also felt God’s presence in that moment of weakness. Here, I can’t do that. I have to find other ways to grieve. So far that isn’t going so well.

I will be heading back to The Hill this afternoon after my Chorale audition. All the excitement I was feeling a week ago about Spring Break and my birthday… I can’t seem to muster any of it. All I can think is that leaving for break early means I’m saying goodbye to my friend. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want her to be gone. And I don’t particularly want to celebrate a birthday that she didn’t live to see. She was supposed to celebrate with me. She was supposed to come visit me when I got home, now I’ll visit her for the last time.

Goodbye, MarMar. You are loved and missed. I can’t wait to see you again someday.

Please buckle up.



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