Throwback Diary

There is a project called Throwback Diary. A 34-year old woman named Caroline goes through 20 diaries that she has kept since the age of nine, recording old diary entries onto video. My understanding of the project from watching its explanation, is that she wants to do something with the 20 books and years of her life. She also wants to share experiences and empathy with the world. I find the project interesting and bittersweet.

Not written on this day last year, but around the same time frame:
It's St. Patrick's Day, which means my university campus is going crazy outside right now. I have to work on a paper due at 2:30PM. It's only two pages, but I have about a quarter of one page done. One of the Boys is coming over at 11:30AM to make us beer pancakes. I should probably put some beer in the fridge. I have a seminar at 2:30PM. A bunch of friends are coming over at 8PM to drink and be merry and we're going to go out tonight.

It's my last St. Patrick's here. The Alumnus asked me how I've been doing. I said I was sad about leaving. He told me it's almost better coming back as an alum than it was to be here. I told him I'll miss everyone. I love my friends here. I've fallen completely in love with them- their laughter, their flaws, their love, their growth, everything. 

Sometimes, it feels like I am dying. I am so confused. It felts like I might perish when I leave this place, this bubble, this warm blanket of security and ease and fun. I know I won't. I was born and breathe as a city girl. The City is waiting for me- the summer, my friends, the laughter, the art, the parties, the music, the guys, the cement streets lined with shop windows and smelling of cigarette smoke. The City is waiting. I am going Home soon. But still, it frightens me. The world is so big outside and the people I've met here have been so kind. 

It's my last St. Patrick's here. I remember my first one here. We dressed in green. One of my roommates and I wandered aimlessly through the streets. We ended up sitting at a Starbucks with beer from a kegger. We had a picnic by the lake that evening. We went out again after. It was so messy. I love everyone here. I love my friends here. I have to start my paper. It's my last St. Patrick's, and I'll cry of joy if I want to. 
March 17th, 9:03AM.