prose

progress

I don’t feel so alone anymore. Three years ago, I had a boyfriend who treated me badly, and I didn’t have many people to find comfort in. There were so many nights I spent crying alone, because I didn’t know who to talk to. You know the feeling when you’re scrolling through your phone contacts but you have no one to call? It wasn’t unfamiliar. I still get it sometimes, but not so often. Without knowing it, I had built a system of support here–all I have to do is reach out. And I don’t even have to reach very far. Somehow, I’ve met people who will drop what they’re doing at the slightest indication that I need someone and come over to talk to me, or watch My Little Pony with me, or walk me home. Last weekend, I kept thinking “I want to go home,” because it feels safe there, but I think I realize now that I’m also at home here. I walk back to Scripps after a rough night, or a tiring day, and it’s comforting. It’s like a refuge from the scariness of the outside world, even from the other campuses. It’s comforting to know that I can come back here and spend time with like-minded, strong, caring women; it is like drinking hot tea and curling up on the couch after a long day. I think I’ve begun to have a family here.

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