From Anonymous: Scramble

I remember the scramble. We searched our hotel room for every bag we could find. We shoved my folders, organizers, alarm clocks, thumbtacks, posters and frames into plastic grocery bags left by the last inhabitant. As I stuffed my extraordinary amount of clothes into my suitcase, I broke into a cold sweat. As the beads trickled down my spine, I suddenly realized, emotionally, what I was doing. I was moving into somewhere with someone I didn’t know about to participate in something I wasn’t sure about. Away from my friends, and officially an “ex” I felt alone.
We drove over the picturesque emerald hills and too-perfect colonial architecture. It was everything I had wanted: the perfect setting for my next 4 years. I moved into my dorm room hastily and met my roommate. “This is going to be okay,” I told myself. As orientation began I met new people who seemed kind and nice enough. How much can you really know from a stupid name game and someone’s favorite ice cream? As the first week transitioned into the second and third, things became cleared.
At the beginning of actual classes, we had a dance. I got excited at the prospect of dressing up and letting loose. I had been so stressed about meeting new people I was ready to forget about it. As my roommate walked in with her ever-growing possie, she poured me a few drinks. Now- trust me, I drink and I had for a long time. So, I slammed them back. Drink after drink until I was giddy with excitement. As I walked into the dance, the intoxicating smell of vodka and Old Spice filled my nose. I realized that every other freshman had been doing the same thing I was the hour prior. I jumped into dancing and guys were grabbing me left and right. As I danced with this anonymous body, I felt oddly at home. Men, I get men. This I can do. One boy turned me around and reviled his face from the dark light and said: “You want to get out of here?” As much as I knew where this was going. I was dumped and desperate and craving some attention. Sex was something I’d done before; I wasn’t scared.
I lay covered in white itchy sheets purchased the day before. I could almost taste the sweat in the air as he crawled out of bed. After a quick smile, he left and there I was looking at the boring ceiling. This is the time I was supposed to feel used and stupid but surprisingly, the feelings never came. I felt better; I felt like I fit here in this foreign land I now “belonged” to.
I kept on my escapades with everyone who asked. It made them happy and it made me happy. I was important in that one moment. And as I spiraled down and the notches on my bedpost grew, I began to feel better and better. I drank any chance I could and fawned all over men trying to get attention. It worked most times and I felt better and better.

The night of the presidential debate what the night it all broke. After sitting in my room alone, while others watched the battle, I continued to drink. As my head became hazy, my lifestyle became clear. I was a whore, slut, drunk, and a fool. I repeated these words over and over again. I wrote them down on countless pieces of paper and continued to drink.
As my self- loathing increased, my long to live decreased. I looked around the room for something to make me disappear, nice and quietly as to not disturb my neighbors partying next door. I reached towards a bottle of pills on my roommate’s dresser. The pills were large and hard to swallow- I assumed they could pack a punch. I laid the pills out on my itchy sheets and counted. I picked up the first pill and smelled it. It was bitter and strong so I quickly shoved it my mouth and dry swallowed. It wasn’t bad and I didn’t feel anything. I reached for the next pill and back at the door. It was closed and locked. I raised it with a steady hand to my mouth and swallowed again. As I felt the lump work its way down my upper pharynx, The doorknob started too shake. I folded my sheets over the line of pills and picked up my red solo and smiled. My drunken roommate wandered in and flopped on her bed. She eagerly propped open the door with laundry soap and started to sing to her favorite song. People from the party next door walked past, laughing at the ridiculously drunk freshman swaying in her room to Jason Mraz when one tall slender girl paused.
She came into the room with erratic steps, pausing to assess the situation. Gently sitting my roommate down in a chair, she came and sat on my bed. She asked me what was wrong and I lied- “Nothing,” I responded, she pulled the solo cup out of my hand and smelled it. She repeated her question but this time she was a bit more serious. She grabbed my shoulders tight and tried to get some eye contact. When her ice blue eyes met mine, I burst out into tears. I couldn’t get any words out of my mouth so she just sat. Her hands still firmly on my shoulders, her eyes began to water too. I pulled back that white sterile sheet to reveal my plan. She looked with no obvious surprise. Confused, I looked around. Two security campus guards stood at my door. The escorted me down the hall, my head turned downwards. I felt all the doors opening, and eyes staring at me. It was the most embarrassing thing of my life.
It was at this moment I realized that I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be here and continue to do what I had been doing. I realized that I couldn’t make this work and it was over for me. The gig was up and I needed to escape. The preppy polos and freshly mowed lawns had trapped me. I didn’t fit but tried to fit in the most natural primitive way I could- to function as only a woman, only an object.

I sat in the counselor’s office on the phone. My mother sat on the other end no doubt in immense fear. I explained to her that I couldn’t be here and I had to leave. I prepared myself for a battle of wills and an epic argument about my “education.” After a long, nervous pause she responded “of course.” Within days, I made my graceful exit leaving some people I loved and some people I didn’t behind. I grew a lot in only a tad over two months. I had hit my rock bottom and made the hardest decision of my life. I didn’t follow my plan. I quit some could say. But I had to and I made a decision just for myself. After spending my life selflessly, and generously, I realized I had sacrificed myself and who I was for other people and in doing so, almost gave away my life.

Since then, I have lived my life doing what I want to do and fulfilling some of my dreams. Although I still battle to please everyone and be the best person I can, I recognize the importance of happiness for you.