Standing amid the new faces, I saw others getting help from their parents with luggage, receiving worried instructions, and sharing tearful goodbyes.
I couldn't connect with that; never had it, never missed it.
All I felt was relief—I was finally out, anonymous, starting over somewhere new.
Week one and I was already hustling at a local café near campus, figuring I couldn't bank on my parents for cash.
I hit the books hard during the week and worked weekends.
After a year of flying solo, I split my savings. Half stayed with me, and half went back home.
I rang up my dad, "Dad, I'm staying put for the holidays. Take care of yourselves."
"Sure, stay away. Your mom would only get upset seeing you anyway," he shot back.
After hanging up, I chuckled bitterly. Right, I was the family curse, wasn't I? Might as well stay away.
New Year's Eve, while the world celebrated, I felt like the only soul left out in the cold.
I hate all the hype during festivals, and being alone is all I need.
Alone on the streets, watching the fireworks, I dared to make a wish for the very first time—wishing for the things I'd always longed for.
In my junior year, mid-lecture, the advisor pulled me aside.