A Series of Things I Would Never Say Out Loud

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With one hand, I can count the number of times my dad and I have exchanged “I love you” or the number of times I’ve hugged a friend goodbye. But with that same hand, I can pick up a pen. I am incapable of voicing or demonstrating my feelings, but as an attempt to convey my gratitude and love for the invaluable connections in my life, I write. 

 

My mom is my best friend—we have matching bracelets to prove it. Even as a sophomore in college, I still see tears trickle down her face each time I leave for school. My connection with my mom is so obvious, so evident on the surface. I’ve always had a much harder time explaining my connection with my dad. He’s the funniest person I know, and due to our unexplainably deep connection, no one appreciates this quality in him better than I do. But as evidenced by his god-awful “dad jokes,” I sincerely believe his humor is so immense, he still hasn’t grasped how to successfully convey it to the rest of the world. Had he sooner turned to writing, he would’ve acquainted himself with his true passion and unleashed all the creativity he didn’t realize he had. I write to fulfill the dream my dad missed out on, because he mistakenly chose a job in real estate. 

 

I’ve never had a celebrity crush, and until sometime recently, I found the concept of one to be quite bizarre. I didn’t understand how you could have such an affinity for someone whose life was so distant from your own. I may identify as a straight woman, but I advise anyone who doesn’t have a crush on Kristen Wiig to rethink their sexuality. Seeing her perform on SNL—Target Lady, Sue, Dooneese—was eye opening to me. Kristen is a woman unafraid to be funny; watching her receive far more laughs than any of her male counterparts was all she needed to win me over. She’s so versatile, so funny in her own quirky way. Kristen is my inspiration because in a room full of the most talented men, she always prevailed. I write because holding a pen makes me feel as courageous as Kristen Wiig.

 

My little sister and I are polar opposites: brunette and blonde, early riser and night owl, reader and mathematician. The one thing, however, that never fails to bring us together is our distinct, shared sense of humor. This summer she was diagnosed with OCD, which has become so severe it occupies almost every realm of her life. But when we sit on her bed at night and I share my ideas for silly writings, her compulsions of touching the corner of her bed or tapping her phone three times miraculously seem to slip her mind. I write for a handful of reasons, but no reason is more fulfilling than to hear the music that is my sister’s laugh.  

 

I ran Cross Country throughout high school, and this experience remains one of the best of my life. Despite running through stress fractures, throwing up after races, and staying late after countless practices to squeeze in more training time, I still always found myself shuffling somewhere in the middle of the pack. In four years, I never earned a spot in the varsity lineup—which broke my heart over and over again every season. Eventually, I realized genetics plays a bigger role in running than I would’ve liked; with no practice whatsoever, new girls on my team would immediately pass me by in races. From that point on, I made it my mission to find a “Cross Country” of my own: something that I felt so connected to because it came to me so naturally, as though I was born to do it. I write because writing is my Cross Country. 

 

A few months ago, my grandmother was formally diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. She’s still in an earlier stage of the disease, but just last week, she was driving to a haircut appointment in her hometown and entirely forgot where she was. According to the Alzheimer's trajectory, she’ll one day be unable to recognize the faces of her loved ones. This thought keeps me up at night, because there are few people I look up to as much as Grammy. Though, perhaps even scarier, she’ll forget who she is—all her hobbies, accomplishments, and memories. I write to pay tribute to myself, because as Grammy reminds me, our inner thoughts are something we take for granted every single day.

 

While holding a pen, I’m able to express these feelings in the only way I know how. So why ever put the pen down?