Clovers and Contemplation: Dust Blue Top and White Lace Dress

summer outfit, college fashion
summer outfit, college fashion
summer outfit, college fashion
summer outfit, college fashion
summer outfit, college fashion, jump shot
Top, thrifted | Dress, Kohl's | Moccasins, thrifted
Photos by my brother

She smiles and leaps through fields of clovers, but inside, she is broken. 

Inside, she is desperately seeking answers. She tears apart every decision, scrutinizing each shred--wondering what could've been. Did I choose the right major? Should I be leaving my campus family indefinitely to study abroad for a year? Do I really want to pursue graduate school?

At her cubicle internship, as she clicks away through the monotony of spreadsheets and webpages and government codes, she dreams of elsewhere. She dreams of a future unconstrained by the norms of adulthood. She dreams of an active, resonant lifestyle. She dreams of running 100-mile trail races, skinny dipping for body image solidarity in Australia, releasing golden lanterns into Taiwan's midnight blue evening sky, exploring dreamy cliffside European cities.

She dreams of her 10 months abroad in France and England, but she is afraid. 

As she plugs away through the days at home, she is unsettled, suspended. She is homeless at home--she and her old friends have grown accustomed to living in separate spheres. When she is physically near to them, she oddly feels more distant. Gone are the concerted efforts to catch up via skype and messages. Instead, here are the infrequent meetups filled with mutual angst of growing older.

As time passes, so does the distance between her and her school family. The heartfelt messages fall away to terse replies. Others have simply retreated to their home lives, offering nothing but opened messages and radio silence.

She wonders where she will find home again. Not her childhood city, where she is unstimulated and constrained. Not her campus, which will be filled with two grades of strangers upon her return--and where, perhaps, old connections may have become strangers. Not her destinations abroad, where she may struggle to communicate effectively and be baffled by the education system. Where she may spend nights alone yearning for stability and familiarity. Where she may struggle to find the same resonance she left behind.

She is afraid, and she is determined--afraid of the murky, uncharted waters, but determined to pierce the seas with dignity. She is hurt, and she is grateful--hurt by those she loves, but grateful for the warm memories. 

She knows all too well that humans change as swifty as the seasons transform a field of clovers. So she dusts herself off and embraces the wind, ready to dance again.

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