Going Nowhere
3.561 GPA, going places, going nowhere, because how can a kid so smart forget so much? My cell phone, my ID, my laptop case, the concept of personal hygiene, all forgotten in my room in favor of the annoying two-months-too-early Christmas song that is currently looping through my head. Friday evening, where am I? Going places? Going nowhere. In the lobby again, silly girl, I left my social life with the FitBit that sits discarded on the dusty dresser next to my unmade bed with its yellowing sheets. No friends. No chance. Let’s check the scale. I can’t quite hold it steady; its pale numbers wobble like a first-time acrobat’s nervous balancing act. Oh, whoops, I’m up a pound. There goes the progress I fought so hard to earn. For me. For you. It’s going nowhere. Everything I do goes nowhere. You call me at 9 PM on the nose, a professional father, glasses on your nose, checking up on your failure of an unkempt daughter. I throw my flaws at your voice on the other end of the phone, and you tell me a hundred ways to fix the chinks between my skin, using your best I’m-disappointed-in-you-young-lady voice, but listen, I’m trying. I’m driving out of nowhere. I’m running towards the starting gate of change. My strategies are made of cotton candy and duct tape, but they’re there. I write plans on the back of my hand with bright blue magic marker, and maybe this time, they won’t fade in the morning. Listen, I’m trying. Listen, I’m crying. When will you be proud?
About the author: Leah Merone, (age 21), is currently a student at Longwood University, studying English and Creative Writing. A native of Charlottesville, Virginia, she enjoys writing, reading, and spending time with her family.
