The rain in my life just keeps fallin'
The New Hotness
By Chhun Sun
The Collegian
Thursday of last week brought
in rain for the first time this season in Fresno. The drops of wetness
falling on my head told me I should invest in an umbrella. But, I thought,
maybe next time.
Then, as I was standing on the corner of Shaw and Barton avenues waiting
for the light to turn green, a female student turned to me and said:
“Oh, do you want to share my umbrella?”
There she was, this young woman who I’d never met before offering
me shelter on our way to campus. We talked for a moment and once we made
it across the street we went our separate directions.
That was the last I saw of her.
The previous night a friend, colleague and I left a hip-hop club about
10 minutes before a homicide took place.
We were shaken by the news, especially my colleague who couldn’t
help but reveal a nervous smirk and giggle. It wasn’t the kind of
giggle that was unnecessary. It was a natural kind of gesture that expressed
shock.
So the young woman who offered me her umbrella doesn’t know how
much her kindness means to me now.
With the semester drawing to a close I’m all stressed out. And it’s
coming at me from all directions, not just school. All I want to do is
run back into the arms of my parents to feel nice and comfy. Better yet,
the idea of jumping back into my mother’s womb where it feels like
home sounds perfect.
Again, this is not just the usual stressed-out mode most college students
have to go through this time of the year. And I’m not saying my
life is any more difficult than the people I sit next to in class. I wish
life wasn’t so hard.
It just puts me in the mood to crawl into a dark corner and hug my knees
to my chest and cry for the first time in five years. Or I want to go
to the local library and immerse myself in a book I will never understand
but know the words will serve as an escape. Or I want to run as fast and
as far as I can until I can’t anymore only to collapse on the earth
and watch the sky move. But I lack the time.
These are great outlets, especially after I heard later that Thursday
that my friend and colleague Nathan Hathaway collapsed on campus.
He suffered his second aneurysm in six years. The news was suffocating.
I couldn’t imagine being in the state of mind that I’m in,
where the idea of jumping off a bridge might do some good. But I won’t.
All I can do now is hope for the best, and stick it out for the remainder
of the semester — and find comfort in those close to me. Especially
the ones who will offer me shelter now that the rain is pouring down hard.
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