My CAMPUS DAYS

𝐸𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 ♡ Sometimes we need to drown to float, Die before we live , To cry before we smile, And to let go before we take control. All that's there to understand is that to gain something precious , we need to let something valuable go. And this was a lesson , that took me half of my life to understand. Since childhood, I have always been a weird person. Not like in a nerdy way , but far worse. Normal people call me weird, weirdos call me weird , nerds, alts , emos— even abnormal people call me weird. I rarely laughed. I felt stupid whenever I did that, so I always wore a gloomy or angry expression. I hated rowdy spaces and people , it gave me anxiety to see some many people gathered in one space. I didn't like trends, unlike many teens and pre-teens . I hated to be stuck with the idea of having the same fashion statement and personality with others. It just didn't feel necessary. It's like I was born to be and move alone , and news flash — I was always alone . Never really had any real friends — maybe because my family was always relocating or perhaps because I was just too "Weird". But everything changed when I met Eloise; though I didn't know it yet. I met her a year after my parents and I moved to Oakridge. Although we had been classmates in my new school, Eloise and I never spoke to one another till after a year. I guess this is the part where I should tell you who I am. I'm Emerson . Four feet eleven. Black American, with roots that stretch far beyond the country I was born in—roots my parents never let me forget. My last name is Rivers. Adeyemi, before my grandfather crossed an ocean. I’ve always been the shortest in every room, the quietest voice in loud spaces, the one people overlook until they don’t. Being small taught me how to observe, how to listen, how to disappear when necessary. It also taught me how to survive on my own. Eloise noticed me before anyone else did. She didn’t say much the first time we spoke. Just asked to borrow a pen. Her voice was calm, almost careful, like she was measuring every word before letting it out. She was Blasian—her mom Asian, her dad Black—and there was something about the way she carried herself that felt familiar. Not because we looked alike, but because we understood something unspoken. Strict parents have a language of their own. Curfews that made no sense. Expectations that felt heavier than our textbooks . Dreams chosen for us before we were old enough to understand ourselves. Eloise understood a part of me that no one else did. She understood the mounting pressure, the fear of failure and disappointed, the law of obedience. It was like she shared a strong part of my being. And just like that, without even trying, she became the best thing that had happened to me... Eloise and I did basically everything together. From homework to house chores to cracking little jokes and playing games; and I could laugh my heart out freely, without caring if it sounded awkward. I could cry my heart out without caring if i seemed weak, and I could forget that my life wasn't perfect. And for the first time in my life , I had a friend, a real friend .