Mercifully, It Was Over

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


Mercifully, the semester was over. It was time to go home and get away from the melodrama. There were so many reasons to be happy I was headed home and so many reasons not to be. The awkwardness of being on the same campus with a girl who I’d obviously offended with my affection… the fact that Rachael was going home for good… the prospect of a summer without my band, without anything to write or two write with… God, the feelings were so mixed. It is almost incomprehensible to me now.

One of the last memories I have before I headed off for home was a conversation I had with Suzanne in the lobby of Tupelo East. I was talking about how sad I was that nobody in the world had ever had a crush on me. I’d had crushes on so many girls but none had ever dug me. (I was, of course, forgetting the fact that it was Tracy who had feelings for me even before I admitted my feelings for her).

Suzanne said something to the effect of, “I know of at least a couple of girls who have had crushes on you but were just never brave enough to say anything.” She refused to name names. It got me giddy for a moment but soon I realized it didn’t matter. Anyone who’d had a crush on me would now undoubtedly know what a jerk I was, thanks to Heather T. telling them all what a weirdo I’d been.

I said goodbyes to the few friends I felt I had left, got in my car, and went home. I knew I’d be back the next day to see Rachael off, but for me the semester was officially, finally over.