Twenty Four

When I’m in a terrible, terrible place,

It’s hard to pull up anything positive in my mind. It’s easy to do in California: You don’t worry about what the weather is going to be like today, you don’t worry about getting sick, and you can go anywhere you want without worrying about getting your boots dirty or getting caught in a snowstorm. I’m back for spring break, so I’m going to do my best to post something even when my reasons for smiling is disappearing as I approach the end of spring break and my return to the awful east coast.

I try hard to see beauty, and I even see it around my school. Whether it may be the people, the brief blue skies and sunshine, or the stretch of green or snow-covered lawn, I try so hard to manually lift myself up and appreciate being alive there. I even try to appreciate the hippies, the fake hipsters, and the secretly-rich bohemians. At first I thought they were an eye sore and lamented how my college town doesn’t have any attractive or positive people, how all the men need a shave, and how there’s no “real” Asian restaurant in town without a hoard of pretentious hippies eating there all the time. But slowly, slowly I’m starting to see the beauty of the town, or how I can survive in it. Yes, it may be a town where no one looks like me or knows my culture, but the people there have good souls and a sincerity that must have scared me as I made my first impressions. I guess they are trying their best to make it in that little town, where the seasons are their element just as consistent Californian sunshine is mine.

Therefore, ever since arriving there, I’ve treated my stay in Western Massachusetts as a study abroad, temporary experience that may or may not make the East Coast my home. I am going to try to transfer, for the sake of my mental health, because my therapist told me that I became quite “numb” after only a month over there. She is totally right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay there if I fail to transfer.

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