(my freshman year journal is home on my laptop, I’d include 3 years ago if that were possible right now)

17 february 2010

today was ash wednesday, and me and cash were deep in the midst of our one true fight that we ever had. on the first day of february of that year I had become engaged in a sudden and intimate romance with a girl I was very fond of. she has gone off in her own way to travel the world, but she was beautiful and free, and had the thoughts and wild unmoored passion of someone far older. we were both in our separate open relationships, which drew a blanket of reservedness across our affection, but I had told cash about her, and how much I cared for her.

the weekend instant to the date two years ago it was our tap-in night, and the zetes were down in our secret spot on the national mall for initiation of pledges, and as they approached with the pledge educator, we laid in ambush making snowballs. as they walked from the thicket of trees into our firing line, the seven pledges (including josh little, whoa) and yaniv were bombarded from all sides with snowballs, and continued up to the plinth under our withering barrage. we were all smiling broadly and covered in snow by the end of it, and it is a happy memory; at the bid party, I introduced sara to cash, and within the hour they were in a garage drunk and hooking up, and cash showing off to people the blood on his hand.

it was our only real fight but it was a bitter one. he argued that she was polyamourous, so there was no “claim” to be staked, but I was immensely hurt by it all. I felt treated with utter disrespect, and that coupled with sara’s regret made me avoid cash for a while. I retained most of the anger inside until it dissipated, swallowed my pride, and inevitably sara was gone out of both our lives, and now traveling asia and the world beyond the seas. she always said that in the end, there would be nothing that would remain but good memories. I suppose I was irrationally jealous but I am not ready to invalidate my own feelings just yet; all the wrongs are healed and amends made, but the journals of two years ago are a snapshot into a far, far different time.

17 february 2011

I had woken up in the morning and set out on my usual path to the metro from the MRC. today the all-american rejects came on shuffle, and I texted vicky to tell her of that. the path led down the hill past shepherd, randolph, and I turned onto quincy; many of the houses were boarded up back then with broken glass where windows should be, but now they are bought and renovated. it was a standard MRC day. I had pretty constant feelings of self-loathing and isolation. I felt very such that I had been fully disconnected from a lot of friends I once had. I had a random, dead-sober hookup with someone that dreary afternoon who I just now realize I never saw again in person after that, and I convinced myself it made me a bit happier. that night me cash and george drank kratom and sat outside on the porch facing rock creek church road and talked about love and relationships. my dad sent me a text saying he was thinking about me, with a shared memory that I now have forgotten.

not quite sure which year was better / worse. but this journal is such a window into the College Experience. drugs, sex, drama over sex, self-hatred, and finding connection in pain as if we were survivors of stalingrad sharing a cup of tea on a bare floor in a shelled house. I feel just so old now.