At Midnight

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

I couldn’t keep up.

The room was spinning, and I was spinning with it. If I could just match the pace of the wind swirling around me, it wouldn’t be swirling at all. We would be the same — frozen in time.

But that wasn’t possible. The game wasn’t designed for me. I played by its rules anyway.

Why?

Sweat poured down my shirt as we took our seats on an 18th century church pew in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I looked to my left. I looked to my right. Glares from both ends.

Competition? Doubtful. Do they think I am? Probably.

I rolled with it.

Glare back, you deserve to be here. Sit up straight. Play the part.

An hour passed. Maybe two? I don’t know. My mind wasn’t on Matt Damon or whichever other famous alumni the admissions officer bragged about. Maybe I was thinking about Good Will Hunting? Maybe it was the crown molding?

I left the building and entered the courtyard, ready to leave. Harvard wasn’t for me.

Fear and confidence are the same thing inside of a kaleidoscope.

I hopped on an Amtrak the next morning.

Pretty train, take me to a new heaven, somewhere built for someone like me.

“Next stop, New Haven.”