coming to a crossroads [lifestyle]

“It says you’re at a crossroads.”

My freshman 12 months roommate, L, holds my palm in her proper hand and her iPhone in her left, squinting on the indentation between my thumb and index finger. Her gaze shifts to the display, studying wikiHow: “Intro to Palm Reading.” 

I ought to be analyzing sixteenth century Spanish artwork, and L ought to be writing a bio lab report, however when it’s 2 a.m. throughout midterm season, there’s nothing higher to do than devolve into an existential disaster—it’s only a bonus that we’re not alone.

“Yep… crosses through the head line… something about momentous decisions? Does that mean anything to you?”

We each giggle. Nightly shenanigans have destroyed each of our sleep schedules, and this isn’t the primary time a “side quest” has fully changed what had been purported to be strict lock-in hours. 

It’s a slippery slope to an all-nighter, and we’re each teetering on the sting. But our astrology rabbit gap feels completely definitely worth the darkish under-eye circles. Plus, our fridge is totally stocked with Celsius for exactly this purpose.

Maybe the celebrities, or the traces on my palm, or the creators of that webpage knew one thing even L didn’t. Because at that second I used to be, actually, at a crossroads. Earlier that day, I’d walked all the best way to the registrar’s workplace to request my official transcript for switch functions. The personal tab on my laptop display displayed the Common Application, fully stuffed. Still, I couldn’t commit. In the times that adopted, I discovered myself glancing repeatedly on the indiscriminate traces etched into my palm. Curse all these creases, I believed to myself. This “momentous decision” was consuming me alive.

I lastly hit the submit button 2 minutes earlier than the Brown software was due—not in contrast to my class assignments that also one way or the other get submitted at 11:58 p.m. for a midnight deadline.

What’s humorous is that I’d at all times needed to finish up at Brown. It was my dream college in each sense of the phrase. In reality, once I bought rejected the primary time, I promised myself it wasn’t over ‘til it was over. So, the difficulty of going through with the transfer was like the universe laughing in my face. I suppose I kept my promise, given that I am now writing this while under a pile of blankets in the middle of the night in Perkins, a building I’d heard legends about (not the great variety) once I was first making use of. I can’t consider I’m sitting right here complaining a few dorm room only a minute too removed from the Ratty, or that I’ve grown accustomed to a school life I’d as soon as equated to Hogwarts in my head. Loads occurs in a 12 months.

Saying goodbye was one of many hardest issues I’ve needed to do. Especially to L, one of many few individuals on this world who I consider actually is aware of me. It’s humorous how endings work—how they drift away and bleed into beginnings.

L and I downloaded an app known as Costar throughout our week of astrology. It’s mainly the glorified model of a newspaper horoscope, however give it sufficient details about your delivery, and it’ll mainly map out the complete trajectory of your life (for higher or worse). That sounded supreme to me and L on the time, and, to be trustworthy, it nonetheless does. Since that day, we’d (un)satirically depend on it to make the unhealthy days good, the great days higher, and justify our wallowing if want be. I can virtually hear L debating whether or not to skip class as a result of her horoscope that day mentioned, “You deserve a nap.” Before I left, we linked our accounts in order that we might maintain monitor of the moods, life-altering romances, and even catastrophes on one another’s horizons. 

L lately despatched me a screenshot of the app. It learn: “If it seems like you’ve known Yana all your life, there’s a good chance you were always meant to be friends.” Maybe it had one thing to do with the Sun’s alignment with Neptune in Aries?

Perhaps sure issues are written within the stars. Or possibly we’re those who write them.

On the final day of freshman 12 months, L and I engraved our initials into the sting of the door to our dorm—figuring out that it might absolutely be renovated within the subsequent 5 years, and that’s being beneficiant. (Is there such a factor as a good freshman 12 months residential constructing?) Nonetheless, proof of us is etched there endlessly.

Our room has since been occupied by individuals who will even assume they’re unique for marking their initials in Sharpie. I’m now far sufficient away that I can’t simply determine to get up and go to the constructing or L, or anybody from the life I used to be dwelling final 12 months. But I give it some thought on a regular basis. I thought of our preliminary writing at the moment once I trudged up the stairway of the List Art Building and noticed a whole lot of names I’ve now memorized after taking that route every single day. I’m wondering the place the homeowners of these names are actually.

This 12 months, so much occurred: I turned twenty, mentioned “I love you” for the primary time, declared my main (shoutout artwork historical past), dyed my hair darkish to really feel cool, transferred faculties, perfected my egg-and-cheese recipe, and took up weight-lifting. I’m midway via school, and plainly because it began, every little thing has modified. Yet in additional methods than one, I’m precisely the identical. Each day, I brace myself as I confer with my horoscope. When I by accident shrink my favourite wool sweater within the Perkins dryer, I FaceTime my mom for emergency laundry help, figuring out full nicely a YouTube tutorial video would suffice. I nonetheless really feel a pang of jealousy at the truth that my little sister can clear up a Rubik’s Cube quicker than I can. I name L once I’m feeling down, up, and all over the place in between. My fridge is totally stocked with Celsius. I do know I’ll go away my initials on this room, and in List, and wherever else on this campus I can accomplish that with out getting punished for vandalism. 

My horoscope at the moment says: “Reach out to the person you used to be.” I assume that is me reaching out to her. Because in each approach that counts, I am her. My palm will at all times be filled with crosses via the headline. I’ll at all times be on the finish of one thing and the start of one other; at all times enduring some form of existential disaster. We are all at a crossroads. And nonetheless, the celebrities align.