My patio is a nice place. It’s right down the road from the sorority row Starbucks and faces a busy sidewalk. I sit there sometimes when the sun is out or when I want to people-watch. Or when I want to be watched. I’m on the patio now, sinking into my blue Amazon couch cushions. I brought my notebook, but I haven’t written anything. This girl just walked by with the shoes I’ve been wanting since Christmas. I wonder if my freshman self would be happy with who I’ve become. Last week, someone asked me, “If Noelle were your best friend, how would you describe her?” I’ve never been asked such a tough question. Saying good things about myself feels weird. My pencil just rolled off the couch and onto the patio. I wasn’t using it anyway. I’ve been thinking a lot about change. Change, change, change. They say it’s a good thing. I should pick up my pencil. Even if I had the chance to travel back in time, I don’t think I would. Haven’t you heard of the butterfly effect? I wouldn’t even tell my freshman self to get her shit together. Or tell her to focus on her friendships because those are what really matter. Because then I wouldn’t be here, sitting on my patio, soaking up the sun on these blue cushions.
