I have thrown up in every building on campus, excluding North but including Conese. The scariest of times is when it came out of my nose with the pain not going away until two days later. It is not like I want to; most good lawyers throw up before oral arguments.
Blaming an institution for my misery would be ridiculous, but the correlation will persist in my brain. Iona was my last choice, only in desperate situations would I have chosen to attend. So, when the pandemic occurred, my mother scolded me for thinking too highly of myself.
Yet, I told myself that I would love Iona like every other thing in my life. Hearing the sirens of ambulances picking up dead bodies, I hung banners attempting to fight the good fight.
The moment I turned eighteen, I was immediately marked by my gender. A sub-human who was asking for too much. I was no longer a virtuous maiden but a soon to be spinster. I could have even gotten married at 19 before having my first boyfriend, but for some reason I rejected the proposal of a 23-year-old divorcé.
I occasionally regret trying so hard, but I was never asking for much. Each day, I discovered more reasons as to why I am so miserable. I stopped pleading for someone to take me out of my misery as there are some who would gladly take up the opportunity. I remain fearful for my life walking in New Rochelle, besides the constant harassment on North Ave, I am conscious that I could be a potential victim of femicide for saying no over five years go.
I have traveled across the country, going from city to city for conferences and conventions but no matter where I am, I would rather be in New York. I have lost count of the times I have nearly cried, placing my hand on a car window trying not to leave an impression, whispering to the skyline that I have made it home and promising not to go, at least for the weekend.
Always a victim of passivity, but forced to be an active agent. To list all the misfortunates that occurred during my college experience would need more than 500 words. However, to be brief I will list a few. How can we ever forget being trapped in Brooklyn during the subway shooting, my uncle getting in a bus accident twice in a month and being trapped in an elevator all happening in three weeks. Sometimes, I wished it were my fault, at least that way I could amend my behavior. I could fix it.
A feminist icon to all who know me. I have forgiven every transgression against me with a smile. Once I discovered everything was a performance it was hard to go back. I just cannot disclose how impotent I feel, it would be bad for publicity. I know now why everyone told me to choose any career but law. I tell the same thing to every girl asking for advice, to only do it if they cannot do anything else.
Yet, it is all over, and I have there been more hopeful. I never looked good in maroon anyways.
