Why is it not easy to melt?
And how is it possible for concrete to appear as glass?
I know that living in the countryside,
or volunteering for the Peace Corps,
or having a person dedicate their dilated pupils to me will not keep the sky pink forever,
or guarantee that I’ll be reincarnated into an oak tree.
Only turning the multiple unbearable ruminations that I have locked behind doors and in cages into words can do that.
I like to pretend that I am good at making eye contact
and that my biggest fear and what I value the most is not the same thing.
But now, I will try something new.
I will paint my body gold and climb to the top of the highest skyscraper (Burj Khalifa, Dubai, 2,722 ft) while confetti shoots out of my eyes to announce multiple things very loudly:
1. I do not like to write, but it is the only thing keeping me from spiraling far away right into the center of the cold gravityless universe that houses our home.
2. Keeping every arduous thought stored deep in my mind is great fun until it becomes difficult to be a living, breathing, functioning human being that does things like order 10 piece chicken nuggets with a medium fry.
3. I need to stop ignoring that girl in the mirror. She’s a bit much at times and tends to quadruple check and overthink everything she does, but she’s nice, she likes Trader Joe’s macarons a lot, and I need her more than I need anyone or anything else.
And lastly
4. I am very bad at making eye contact.
And so with open arms and shaky, clammy, nail-bitten hands, I present to you all: me.
Imani Andwele is a freshman Photography & Video major at the School of Visual Arts. Imani likes writing (of course), pad see ew, Russian Doll, Arctic Monkeys and John Mulaney. Imani’s poem, “Everything is Marigold,” is also published in this issue.