Sweater, Yoins | Button-down, thrifted Ralph Lauren | Leggings, Burlington Coat Factory | Keds, eBay| Necklace, Love Nail Tree
For old times' sake, I squeezed a short swiming workout at the MIT gym into our packed two-day Boston trip schedule.
My favorite city hadn't changed much in the nine months I'd been away. It felt funny to train again in the same gym where I'd completed important summer triathlon workouts. It felt funny to eat food again at the vegan cafes I hadn't stopped raving about. It felt funny to stroll along the same bustling sidewalks. It felt funny because so much had happened, but here I was again.
I'll remember last summer fondly, for the weekend expeditions to Boston, for my resonant job as a indoor cycling instructor and RA at Explo. I'll remember it fondly especially in the months to come, because a while back, I decided not to return. I burned my ships, just as explorer Cortés did when he reached the Americas. With no means to return home, the necessity of success was all the more pressing.
Like Cortés, I wanted to see what else was out there. I wanted to know if there was an opportunity that fit my interests even better, that could push me to grow even more. Despite completing countless internship applications since January, it's almost April and I still have no concrete plans for the summer. I have no time for regret, and no desire to wallow in pity. My ships are but wisps of smoke and ashes, and I have no choice but to press on.