Fall Semester Diary Entry

Olivia Baradaran / V Mag at UVA

My skin is growing tougher by the day.  I’ve made a habit of swaying to and fro in my rocking chair and letting the mosquitoes feast upon my blood. I don’t bother to swat them off. Who am I to deny them their nutrients? The sweat dripping from my armpits and breasts and cascading in pearl-like drops down my skin is a sensation that I’m almost too familiar with now as the dog days of summer drag on. I’m drinking more caffeine than ever, and my stomach is usually bloated by the time I crawl up the narrow ladder into my twin bed. Sometimes I fantasize about the ladder falling backward while I make my way up: not out of fear, but out of pleasure for the potential for such a great story to tell. I am falling in love with everyone I meet. Each conversation is better than the last. What would really happen to me if I made a woman my partner? Dare I test the tolerance of my mother? How about an eccentric, esoteric philosopher who has a different first language than me? When I put a name to its vulgarity, I realize that I am totally constrained by my upbringing. If I lived in this world with no expectations, no fear of judgment–no hereditary angel and devil on each of my shoulders–everything would be beautiful in a way that I can’t even describe to you. I could act upon my love. I could run around and be barefoot outside and write poetry and live in love.