Its days like today where I feel like my heart is on my
sleeve and the littlest things bother or intrigue me. My “ooOOOooo look
shiny!” senses are heightened and the people around me are movie stars that I
get to sit in watch in 3-D.
Today I overheard a
few girls talking today about one of their roommates ( technically it’s hard
not to overhear them because they talk loud enough for the whole second floor
of the building to hear, but I digress). Now I’ve listened to these girls
before, their conversations fascinate me because of how differently they see
the world than I do. One is a girl who I would have loathed in Jr. High and
high school – she’s the girl who does everything right the first time and has
never been in an awkward situations ever, at least that’s how she presents
herself to her friends and her mother (who she has wonderful long conversations
with at full volume on her end once a week). The other girls were sisters- one
of course took the dominate role and the other was the rebellious “I do
whatever the flip I want” sibling.
Usually their conversations are about typical college life-
boys, classes, and roommates. But as they discussed roommate woes, they started
nitpicking at one specifically. It was more than just impolite and annoying occurrences
that are typical of living with strangers though. They were tearing her down,
piece by piece.
Something in my heart twinged with anger as they discussed
the problems of this roommates life- her hard time understanding material for a
class, her frustration of studying hard and still bombing a test, her having a
hard time making it to class when she feels like a failure, and talking about
how all of those feelings were just her being lazy. I was angry at them for not only dismissing
their roommate’s feelings, but treating them as if they were but silly little
things that everyone should just suck it up and deal with. I was angry because
once upon a time- I was that roommate.
Not that long ago I was a student who had a hard time
motivating herself to get out of bed and face hard classes, long hours of
studying, and dreading to see my score on tests because I knew I didn’t do
well. I was too scared and shy at that point to reach out for help. I didn’t believe anyone would want to help
someone who on the outside looked lazy to everyone around her. So I failed. And
it took me two years to find the motivation to come back. I still have a hard
time getting out of bed and going to class, but I’ve found my support system
and resources to help me. My only regret
is that I didn’t try to find that support sooner.
I admit, I wanted to stand up and tell those girls to shut
up. I wanted to tell them how they were the worst roommates because they couldn’t
have a shred of decency to see their roommate was in need of some help- not
ridicule for handling her academic life differently than they do. But I kept my
mouth shut because sadly, I don’t know this roommate. I don’t really know if how she was being
described by these girls (who I admit, I am rather biased against) is true or
not.
What I do know is
that I have learned that I really don’t like it when people dismiss another
person’s worries, fears, anxieties or other stressors, simply because they know
to handle those things. It makes me sad to see people believing that everyone should
be able to learn, understand, and act the same way that they do.
Sometimes people watching is a heart wrenching exercise that
rubs you wrong. But in the end, it’s good to know that these girls do not see
the world the way I see it, because then that means that someday I’ll learn why
they feel comfortable talking loud enough for everyone to hear no matter the
topic. Perhaps I’ll learn why “little miss perfect” feels the need to show off
how good she is to her friends and why I find her so irritating.
Until then, it's just me and my view of the world.
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