Dear Lavender,

August 18, 2022

College is slow and fast all at once. I find myself jumping between long stretches of time with nothing particular to do and spending whole days outside of my dorm room. As of right now, I’m still okay with the fact that I was given a single. All the roommate pairs I know seem to resent each other for existing in the same space. If we had belonged to a slightly more obsessive friend group in high school I think we’d have all gone to the same school. In that case, you and I would have probably shared a dorm. But alas, we are all well-adjusted young adults, and thus based our decisions off personal preference rather than group think. How dreadfully boring.

It’s strange seeing how people interact with each other here. There’s a kind of desperation behind everyone’s attempts at closeness. Last Saturday night I found myself just sitting on the porch steps of a house party, watching pairs of people run off giggling into the night, holding hands and falling into one anoth- er. It’s tempting, I won’t lie, yet I feel sorry for them in an interesting way. I really do believe that everyone here is touch starved and devastated, alone and longing. They’re just the ones covering it up for an hour or two with someone else. Who am I to judge?

I’m not- judging. It’s possible that I’m envious, or maybe feeling empty myself. It’s rare for me to outright acknowledge when I want something, so I’ll have to roll this idea over in my head for at least another week, just to make sure I’m tormenting myself properly.

I hope you’re doing well, genuinely. You told me there’s not much weed where you are, which I find hard to believe. You picked a rural Vermont college for a reason, afterall. Still, stick with the soft drugs when you get the chance, you’ve never been able to handle your liquor.

I keep on trying to include you in my conversations here. I’ll turn around to make a side comment and you just won’t be there. I do the same when thinking of our other friends. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the idea that you guys just aren’t here, that you aren’t coming. That I’ll wake up in my room two months from now and still be the only person in my dorms that’s even heard of our little town. Maybe soon it’ll sink in that this isn’t some two week summer camp-esque trip. That this is actually my life.

I’ve been writing a lot lately, nothing creative or special, just crystalized copies of the most extreme emotions I’ve been feeling. As I wait for the other shoe to drop, I crave intensity. I miss you, but in the same way that I used to when we needed to be apart from morning announcements until the second period. The momentary lack of you disturbs me, but I remain confident in your closeness, that I’ll see you soon. In some ways, I still feel like that whenever I don’t see you. I miss you.

Sincerely, Love, Violet