February 13, 2024

What would you do if everyone you loved, every friend, every relationship, vanished. 

When I sat down and opened my laptop, confetti poured down the screen. CommonApp was throwing a surprise party for me, but a feeling of discontent rushed through my body. 

Accepted into my target college. 

A letter congratulating me on my many years of gossiping, procrastinating and staring at others has arrived. A formal letter, gripping me through the screen, auguring my next four years of schooling.

I could not escape.

I sought out the best person for advice. Not my best friend, significant other or a classmate I’m close with. A teacher. 

The chess pieces on the desk followed suit in a relentless battle, calm and calculated. I poured every ounce of stress from my body, reckless and hysterical. 

If everyone around you no longer existed, or disappeared, what would you do?

That shut me up. A new thing to think about.

A clean slate, a new future. Someone new, and something new would be created. From clay to sculpture, from nothing to something.

What would you do? 

What will I do.

As the countdown to decision day begins, and as more acceptances from colleges roll in, I imagine myself with no one to come home to. A home with only the sound of music and the inevitable burning of food. 

The silence is intimidating. 

Yet, the silence is comfort. 

I allow myself to sink into my imagination, a reality that could never be. 

What will I do?

I imagine the thousands of branches, the flourishing fig tree. My bell jar. To be human is to suffer, to suffer is to hold millions of dreams. I imagine versions of me helping other women through labor. Doing research for the aid of adolescent mental health. Being a firefighter. I even was an FBI agent in one. In every lush fig, though, I wrote.

I observed. I breathed in. I saw the morning dew fall gently from every dandelion. The bees danced with their partners. Naturally, I wrote about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was buried with my favorite pen. 

What would you be buried with? A pen of your own? The secret you never told them? A memory.

What will you imagine in your perfect reality? 

Will it be a sunset in Sedona, unfolding the fragments of the universe. Will the drops of rain fall on your face and wipe your fears away?

Will it be the city glowing at night? What will you eat in the morning? What will you be looking for? 

What will you be forgetting. 

Who will you be when everyone is gone?

What would you do?