April & May 2026

Instead of filling out the driving forms I went out of my way to ask for, I spend the forty minutes in between my classes scrolling Facebook, reading posts in the “I partied in IV from 1999-2005” group. One user asks for advice on how to give her daughter a better chance at admission to UCSB, and the others give a myriad of responses. I don’t know what it is about UCSB that I find so captivating, but it calls nonetheless. I wonder about my life as a student had I decided to attend now, in this stage of fun-centered living. I wonder about lying on the beach, and surfing, and meeting the rich people from Palos Verdes I never did. It is hard, or at times impossible, not to feel regret. I wonder about how simultaneously motivated and yet lost I seemed to be. I wonder about the people, my once friends, I might never see again. I wonder where they are, how they are, what they think about these days. Those days are long gone now. Seven years will separate the tears that fell from my eyes in that lonely parking garage after saying goodbye to my parents and the tears that I know will come again when they stand beside me as a blue sash hangs around my neck this December. It will not be the same blue as it would have been in 2023, had I gone straight through, and they will not be the same feelings. ​