You hope that university will answer all of life’s questions, but nope.

I don’t know, I.

There was a guy who’d been hanging around outside our residence lately. Too consistently. At first, I thought he was someone’s friend but he’s always alone. He wasn’t doing anything or bothering my roommates, but that asymmetry set off my alarms.

He looked at me once (which I suppose isn’t a crime), I think, it was quick - a blink of sharp curiosity. I mentioned it to Charles who took his picture. The next morning he said the guy’s a legit student who has no criminal record, so maybe I’m all wrong.

Every girl’s encountered a creep or two before. They’re seemingly everywhere, as if mandated by law, like auto insurance. Most girls develop a sixth sense, a creep-dar. Nowadays, creeps have a new name, “incel” ("involuntary celibate") and they’re a recognized, online subculture. Next, they’ll have a coat of arms proclaiming, “We Would if We Could.” It’s as if awkwardness, a normal human foible, has been distilled into something dangerous.

Although the campus looks like a garden or a perfectly manicured ‘stepford’ park, we joke that it’s really a locked-down, patrolled, surveilled compound, with guards, cameras and card-key access to everything. Which, I suppose, is all to the good.

Our creeper wasn’t there Friday, and he wasn’t there today, so maybe he was nothing.

I don’t know, 2.

I was in Sunny’s room. We were going shopping in a few. There was a little pink book on her bed - a diary!! I’d never seen it before and it was open, about three-quarters of the way. She too-casually moved to scoop it up, like the neglected book of a sorcerer.

My GOSSIP-dar Alerted like a class bell. “Hmm” I hummed, head-tilted, then I laughingly lunged for the book.
Sunny’s eyes went wide for 3-billionths of a second and she snapped it up with the speed of a striking cobra, “That’s MINE” she said, rigid with seriousness.
“What’s going ON?!” I asked, but she shoved it into her night table.
Another mystery!
‘Sleeping dogs,’ I thought to myself.

I broke my personal record for days alive yesterday. Yeah me. I feel great today. This morning I swear my hair looked shinier and more lustrous and there’s the slightest glow to my skin. I’m just saying. I’m out and about for the first time this semester and you couldn’t slap the grin off my face.

The commons dining hall was a rolling buzz of conversations endemic to university life. At the next table, the topic is how many people can someone be in love with at once. A girl named Ariana, is at the center of the discussion. She’s a film-study major and I think it’s the topic of a documentary she’s working on.

Ariana has choppy purple hair with bangs about an-eighth of an inch long. Today, (34° and rainy) she’s wearing a short-short skirt, thermal tights that look like sheer leggings and about four tank tops. “You should pick one person and give them your everything.” Ariana argued.
“Monogamy used to mean one person for life,” another girl states, “then it became one person at a time.” I hide a smile and try to look like I’m not eavesdropping. It’s hard to explain how much I adore these overheard conversations.

Soon it’s time to head for class and we're up, gathering our bookbags and putting in our AirPods. When you’re making your way across campus, the goal is to be fast, fierce and bouncy. I love Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers.” It’s Eden on so many levels. People try to shame Miley but the woman goes hard, she slaps - all the things - and “Flowers” is one of those songs that get you there.

I was once bullied
They didn't like me speak English
They imagined me to be arrogant.
They forced me into a hall
where poetry competition was on.
My first one ever.
They thought I would have an awakening
and stop speaking in English in the campus.
But I won that time
for the best poem of the year
I remember them vividly
with gratitude of course.

The blossom floats to the ground
It hits so violently all of hell shakes
Heaven gazes wordlessly from above,
Watching our actions, judging us.
One eye follows our every move,
Waiting for failure; maybe I'll never graduate
Let's wander past old brick buildings

On campus

the morning rain is subsiding  
while the cool air is still flowing
a live band starts to play  
in front of the library
beneath some trees
sweet and beautiful melodies
to promote a ‘happy relax’ theme

while my fingers tap to the beat
a familiar face
appears and sits
between the band
and my seat

indeed a pleasant surprise
but I should leave soon
a revision class is starting

should I stay or should I leave?

ah what a rare chance it is
to find the heart
where it wants to be,
I should stay

yet the tuition class
is where I ought to be
I should go

torn in between
I look up
to the streaks of light
slipping through
the wet foliage,

it then occurred to me
don’t think too hard
just enjoy the stay…

we walked through
campus together.
the sun was shining,
purple and gold
flowers lined our path.
in the fountain outside
of the library
birds were bathing
and the campus cats
were sitting in the
bushes, only admiring

because they know better than the boys on campus what not to touch.

It's a cool October morning
on campus
across the way children play
you see college students make their way from one class to another
living out these lives that vary from
one existence into another

meanwhile, children play
and all the way these adults
to some and not others
make their way
some pretending
some barely surviving
some ridicule the experience
some express gratitude
because it's all some of us really have
this chance
that one day a future worth living may arise

and then all the while, children play
see,
we all wish we could turn back this clock that
lays both in our existence and our imagination
this clock
that holds these memories
that tells us we're far
and then so near
in the blink of an eye
tells us there may be something to fear
because by chance
one in a few
may not make it

all the while children play
we reminisce about our time
we tell ourselves we wish to turn back to the simple moments
but the truth is
this clock lays partially into existence
so that we may think back
and grasp what we didn't at the time
so that we may act
in accordance
when it comes time

its a cool October morning
on campus
across the way children play
as I make my way

Hello!
an abstract page
with an old pen that I always bring in my grey bag
just keep writing and always
on the unpredictable days
creating new laugh and story with my friends
assuredly coloring new days

I had to call the cops on my ex-boyfriend last Thursday:

Stop looking at me like I did something to you.
I have campus police on speed dial, if you do not leave, I will call them.
You need to stop pretending like I did something wrong to you.
I am dialing the number right now.
Look at me. Look at me! Stop looking at me like you're a victim! I didn't do anything wrong to you. I don't deserve this.
Look, it's ringing. You need to leave.
First, you need to stop looking at me like I did something wrong to you.
No. Leave.
Look at me!
Leave.

You feel a special kind of guilty when you have a stalker. You don't want to believe that someone you ever loved would to this. You really don't want to believe that someone you were ever intimate with, or someone who has pictures that you painted for them in their room would do this to you. You don't want to feel vulnerable. And you really don't want to feel that every few seconds, you need to be looking over your shoulder for them. You just want them to leave you alone.