"It’s about how you’re like a lighthouse, always searching far into the distance. But the thing you’re looking for is usually close to you and always has been."

Love story #11

There is this adorable boy in my class.  He’s absolutely beautiful; imagine a mix of Matt Bomer, Orlando Bloom, and Paul Wesley, and you’ve got him.  So naturally, I am completely obsessed, and he’s probably caught me looking at him in class way too many times.  He’s said hi to me twice, which actually sounds really pathetic.  As in, Mean Girls, “On October 3rd, he asked me what day it was” pathetic.

I talk about him incessantly to my friends.

But as usual, there’s a problem, besides the fact that I don’t know how to get this guy to like me back.  That I can handle.  The problem is that I think I’m trying to focus too hard on liking him, because the reality is, I’m still not over the guy from last year.

I don’t know.  I really truly thought I had moved on during the summer.  But now I’m here, and he’s here, and I don’t know how to stop liking him.  He has a way of getting under my skin.  

Why me?  Why can’t I fall for some cute boy who likes me back?  Why can’t he think I’m hot, like the SUPER POPULAR HOTTEST BOY ON CAMPUS does?  

I kept denying it to myself, but it bothers me when he doesn’t sit with me in class or walk with me to our next classes which happen to be in the same place.  It bothers me that we’re not as close as we used to be.  It bothers me that he asks other friends to play ____ with him instead of me.  

Sigh.  

Sometimes, I just want to hook up with him and get it out of my system.  But I can’t because I might become attached.  That’s my number one rule.  Never hook up with someone I like.  ”Like” as in have a crush on.  

How do I stop liking him?  The only temporary fix I have is imagining my heart as stone and quashing the feelings that rise up.

Yes, it’s that bad.

My life.  Unfortunately.

(Source: Spotify)

I didn’t get into the sorority I wanted.  

I’ve wanted to be in a sorority since high school.  I know the usual criticisms leveled at it:  ”you’re just paying for friends”, “too cliquey”.  But for me, joining one is the right choice.  

Maybe if I played a varsity sport here, greek life wouldn’t be a big deal.  It would be just like high school then.  My track and cross country teams were such a great community, and the daily practices have helped me find some of my best friends.  If you were an athlete, you’d understand.  In the school hallways, you walk straighter and look prouder because you are varsity athlete of this school and you work hard and people look up to you as a leader.  I had a Big when I was younger and had a Little when I became a senior.  I’ve coached younger girls and had the honor of being their role models, remembering when I used to look up to the best girls on the team.  Back then, I was known as the top student who was “really good at track, right?”, friends with everyone, president of clubs, voted “Most Likely to Succeed”.

It’s different now.  Everyone’s smart.  I’m talking actual geniuses here.  CEOs of their startup companies soon to be the Next Big Thing.  Private school kids with massive trust funds.  And me?  Just another grain of sand on the beach.  

More importantly, I’m not a varsity athlete anymore, and when I see others with their [college] duffle bags and team jackets, I feel an incredible amount of envy.  And I projected my wish of being on a team onto rush and its promise of a strong sisterhood much like my beloved running teams.  

I won’t get into the complicated and, frankly, painful details of rush, but the main point is that I dropped out.  

I know that I am going to rush again, but three months seems so, so long.  I’m happy for my friends, especially for one that is very happy with what she got.  But I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt to see girls walking around with ribbons in their hair and sorority bags and hearing about upcoming events.  Because I can’t help but think that that should be me, too.

As my friend and I walk out into the rain after lunch, her crush walking behind us calls out, “[my friend], sorority girl.”  So I leave them.  

It’s not hard to imagine me being made fun of for being in a sorority by some of my friends.  Me, Emma Walker.  Emma Walker, sorority girl.  But I’m not.

I’m just me.  Just Emma Walker, one of the most talked about freshmen last year, nobody this year.  Emma Walker, a non-athlete, an unaffiliated, regular person, top of her class in high school but just another run-of-the-mill [college] student,  who doesn’t have sorority-fraternity parties or greek letters on her bags or a ribbon in her hair.  

Oh, how I wish I did!  

"And while you’re waiting,” he says, “don’t settle for anything less than what you really want."

"I can’t take it anymore. The waiting. The wanting. Something inside me snaps."

Love Story #10

Woohoo!  Double digits!  Anyway…

So I’m home.  It’s actually kind of pretty great.  After dinner today (/yesterday since it’s past midnight), I messaged my next door neighbor who I haven’t seen since graduation last June.  Being the amazing person he is, he immediately texts our other neighbor to hang out and play basketball.  

It was really lovely and “just like old times,” but the best part was when it was only me and him sitting and talking on the driveway to his house later.  We talked about college and life in general to catch up, and I just loved how we knew the most random facts about each other and joked about stuff we did when we were younger.  I don’t have this history with my college friends.  Not to mention college boys are always hitting on me and its difficult to have friendships like this.  With him, it’s so pure and wholesome.  Him and I are going to hang out again tomorrow after his painful-sounding workouts that are for his sport.

Naturally, I tell him about my wonderful day and even more wonderful neighbor when he messages me.  It’s all fine until I tell him about my neighbor.  He immediately asks me who he is.  I don’t understand why he always does that.  Why does he care?  He made it pretty clear before that he wasn’t interested in me.  

I’ve decided that I’m going to get over him this summer.  I won’t stalk his new pictures on Facebook (that much).  I won’t message him (unless he messages me first).  There will be plenty to occupy me: my internship, friends, pool parties, shopping…

It’s working out pretty well, kind of.  After I told him about hanging out with my neighbor, he stopped replying for about two hours and a half.  And that’s how long I stayed on Facebook, telling myself that I was looking at random things but really waiting for him.  He wrote back, finally.

But I think I’m done waiting.  Looking through my posts, I realize that they all sound so lovesick.  I sound so lovesick.  I need to stop.  I need to find someone else to fall in love with who isn’t so damn unreliable.

It won’t be easy.  When I fall for someone, I fall hard.

"We don’t get to pick who we fall in love with, and it doesn’t happen like it should.
-Alvin from No Strings Attached"

So adorable