Being in college

I’m not really sure 

What being in college even means.

Because every morning I wake up and brush my teeth,

Head to the dining hall,

My roomate and friends by my side.

Rush to class and try not to let my eyes slide closed,

Because I keep staying up late chatting when I should be in bed.

On the weekends I do my homework,

And long to be in VT,

Where I can hop on my bike and spend hours with the wind rushing in my ears,

Meet up with long time friends and make fun of crushes.

Sometimes I feel a twisted pain in my stomach,

And I have no idea where it comes from,

Maybe the absence of my parents,

Maybe how I feel stuck at school 24/7,

And wish I had time (and the planning skills) to travel every weekend.

I wonder what it would be like to be extroverted in these moments,

So many people I see in passing that I wish I had the guts to talk to,

Like that one girl who wears vintage dresses,

I swear I had a dream about being her friend.

I feel like I’m lacking something,

Not the art skills,

Or my laughter that brings people to tears,

More like a piece of myself that belongs at home, 

And as silly as it seems,

In a faraway country.

But I’ll end this poem,

By saying I can do this,

I’m smart and kind and I will make friends,

Travel,

Join clubs,

Eat well,

Even though it feels impossible right now.