I hated you.
When we held the first board meeting to discuss event dates, you said that you expected the whole board to attend every event. One of the events conflicted with the spring musical, and I told you that I couldn’t go. You made a commitment to this board; you chastised me during a fall table sit. I stormed back to my dorm that night and cursed you out. I decided I will sacrifice my sleep so I didn’t have to choose between the two clubs I loved so much.
During a Zoom meeting, you announced that you pushed the conflicting date back to April thirteenth.
I disliked you.
We had a moment alone during the International Fashion Show in November. You sat next to me, and I awkwardly tried to make conversation. I hated how arrogant you were, the way you would blow me off mid-sentence, how you basked in the spotlight without a care in the world. I asked if you hated me; you claimed you didn’t. You’re real, a little too real sometimes; you smirked before putting your contacts in.
You invited the club board to your house that night. You didn’t exclude me.
I respected you.
Finals came and went; Christmas was right around the corner. Then I remembered that your birthday is the day after Christmas. I wished you happy birthday over Instagram and Snapchat, to which you replied, Thank you Madame Secretary with a hand salute emoji. Did you see me as a friend or just an officer?
I sent you two hand salutes back. You responded with a red heart emoji.
I cared about you.
Tech rehearsals were in full swing. I skipped dinner to help set up the Lunar New Year festival and then went straight to rehearsal. You kept making puns about Disaster! and bemoaned how you had to attend for your Intro to Theater class. You and my boyfriend should go on the same night, I suggested, since our communication was improving. You promised you would think about it.
The three of us took a picture together on opening night. It is my favorite photo from spring semester.
I love you as family.
On the day of the Holi event, you gathered all of your officers and gave each of us a handwritten letter. You told me not to open mine until I returned to my dorm. When I expressed my sadness over having one year left with you, you replied, it’s not about counting down the days we have left, but rather counting the memories we make in the time we have. I pinned your note onto my bulletin and sent you a photo over Snapchat. Thank you, Big Brother, I captioned it.
We’ve hung out almost every week on Tuesday or Thursday since February. If next year is the last time I will ever see you, every moment I get with you counts.
This was written by our contributing writer, Lauren DeSantis.
Leave a Reply