Dear Hollie Collie,
During our time together you have been responsible for some of the greatest joys in my life thus far. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to encounter the people I have, the good and the bad, and learn for myself that the world is not as idyllic as it seems when you're young and moving out of your parents' house. I was so committed to you, as any faithful companion could be to anyone, and I was going to sail or sink with you. You were my safe place for coming out of the closet and becoming the person I felt had been trying to emerge for so long. You put me through hell, but now I'm the veteran warrior for it. I think that's what college, and general adulting, is supposed to do: knock you on your ass and have you learn to get yourself back up.
That being said, I'm so sick of you.
I'm sick of the traditions that go on behind the traditions. I'm sick of the lying, the manipulation, the "bubble" we all are supposed to implode within. I have never struggled to breathe so much in my life, in such a big place, where there should be nothing but air. Instead, you had me and my friends inhale everything from dust, to sand, to bad mixtures of alcohol.
Crying at parties and what are supposed to be happy social functions is a norm. Why? Why are we suffering? Why do we feel so compelled to put our turmoil and adversities into the spotlight? People are miserable when people should be jubilant. People are anxious and distraught when they should feel supported. That's the whole reason students come to a small school, so they don't feel like a number within the tens of thousands of faces and voices. You go one step farther: you see our faces, you hear our voices, and you watch us struggle, and you turn the other way.
Why do so few relationships survive here? Why is it that when people enter into romantic and/or sexual dynamics with one another, that the small town mentality sinks its teeth in and doesn't let go? Where are all the college sweethearts, the ones who don't have some kind of drama going on with persons x, y, and z. Why are we made to feel like double-crossing persons x, y, and z, for the happiness of the first person is okay. Why do we make someone's heartbreak a spectacle, open for public commentary and judgement.
Why do we disallow people from forgetting and forgiving their past mistakes? Our reputations precede us in all that we do. Someone always has something to whisper about everyone else. Don't trust this person, one time at a party they kissed someone they shouldn't have. Don't hang out with this person, they'll betray you even when the full context of what they have done in their past isn't known to us. Don't let this person get to close, they're mentally unstable and manipulative. I'm all for avoiding toxic people and keeping our lives as positive and healthy as possible, but as someone who has done so much in the last 8 months to grow up and recover from my first year debauchery, I can't even easily forget now all that I have done to mess up my life.
Why do we think it's our right to judge others for their race, gender, class, and/or sexuality? Why are we so afraid of productive discourse? Are we supposed to be going places, or are we just going to sit our asses down on our degrees after it's all said and done. We did not get invited here, and we did not come here to be silent and follow the path of least resistance. Once more, you become angry and bitter when people dare to challenge that ignorance. Think about this: you're angry and protective over your right to make someone else's existence feel wrong, scandalous, and lesser-than. Why are you at college if all you ever hope to do is maintain your hamster wheel mentality, seduced by the comforts of convention?
Why do we think pulling rank on others like some high school network of cliques does any good? Newsflash: You being here for longer than someone else entitles you to nothing if you use it to pull some "Game of Thrones" power grab. We have rights to live here, learn, and socialize. Objectifying people, appraising them for just what they're worth to you, and demeaning their autonomy is disgusting and unproductive. I don't care if I'm a sophomore; I've watched people of all grades and wisdom levels suffer at the hands of elitism and territoriality on this campus. People possess rank, titles, reputations, and even other people, as if we're okay with being commodities.
Also, PSA: This bubble is not like how the real world actually is. Hate to say it, but we're anomalous to how regular schools and regular social systems function. I used to think that was a blessing. I wanted to be a part of something unique and fascinating. I wanted to be a part of something extraordinary. Now, all I see are cycles: cycles of denial, where we pretend our suffering and struggles are unavoidable and completely justified. Cycles of manipulation, where we think our feelings and selfishness should be prioritized above the feelings of others. Cycles of hurt people, hurting other people.
It all boils down to this: The harmony, the traditions, the siblinghood—they are not without their costs. Some can survive, defeat the dragons and demons, and go on to do great things. Others cannot. Those "others," are no less valuable to the experience here at Hollins than the success stories are. In the end, we all make it out of here in some form or another, to realize the same conclusions.
I love you, Hollins. But I don't love you enough to let you decide whether or not I survive what you do to me.
