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Around 2am, 5 hours before I had to be at Marsh Chapel for Sunrise Service, I became disconnected with the sentiments that I was scheduled to deliver at our annual Sunrise Service. I had written a brief story about grief and dealing with grief as someone from the inside. One of my close friends, someone I have grown to call family, lost her little brother last week and it understandably changed everything for he. I had discussed the idea of being resurrected by the passing of an individual, but something didn’t feel right. So I sat down in my living room, pulled out my notebook and hand wrote something completely different. It was just as authentic and genuine and real. I spoke about how I got here. To this moment, where I sit in my class and receive random congratulations from BU students I have never met. I’ve grown so attached to my narrative that telling it has become one of the easiest practices. Now that the election is over, Holy Week has passed, and the end of the semester is near, I feel really accomplished, but still very much scattered. I can’t put my mind on why I feel this way but I just consistently feel under prepared. Maybe it’s school and losing interest, or just the unreal feeling of being here. Writing this has been difficult in itself. Deleting and reediting, nothing seems right. I’m trying to be as honest as I can be, but I just don’t know how I feel.

One Comment

n.yas posted on June 20, 2023 at 12:15 pm

Honesty is a very good and helpful thing…
Try to save it…

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