It is 3:26 am, the birds are already in my backyard, and my fatigue headache is starting to kick in. I don’t want to get too into my emotions, people find that cringe innit. Ruts come and go, that is nothing new. But nowadays, the space between the ruts feels shorter. I’m not alone in these bouts of melancholy that have no traceable source. Many have shared that they feel the same. The intensified uncertainty of these times does not help, perhaps it is the shovel, creating the furrow for our indifference and anxious thoughts to lay.

I graduate this coming weekend. I’ve accomplished some things, but I know that these are not my doings. Reaching this point was by way of my facilitating circumstance. Did I work hard and make personal sacrifices? Yes of course, but still, I in no way feel like this was my doing. Hard work never felt like a choice, rather a compulsion. Forgoing events or parties never felt like a sacrifice, just natural, for my desires have always steered me in other directions. I did not have things handed to me, but in my mind, the difficulties and pleasures of the past four years have all felt so perfectly positioned in my journey, allowing me a circumstance to grow and realize parts of myself at a young age.

This is not how I imagined the occasion. My dad tried convincing me to partake in the virtual ceremony, he said, “do not rob yourself of your history”.  Although I decided not to participate, I penned his lesson in my journal.

Peace & Blessings,

Karima O.