Lawrence Wang

It's getting warmer in Los Angeles (which makes me miss, somewhat, the chilly mornings when I had to wake up at 6 to attend Zoom University — how masochistic of me). Summer is coming, the best batch of loquat is ready for picking, the crisis-mode-marked-by-six-feet-apart-crosses line at Costco, well, probably hasn't actually changed but subconsciously it seems shorter. After all, it's not just you and me who are not going anywhere: "no one's going anywhere," and as Lana famously said: "the culture is lit."

There was not a single soul in the station, so instead of waiting on the empty, eerie platform for the N train which never came, I dragged my suitcases up the stairs into the rain. It was cold. I was alone. My bags were drenched. But I enjoyed having the streets to myself — it felt regal, and I liked how the lights were blurred by downpour, then reflected by puddles, then shattered by droplets hitting the surface. Light On reminds me of the rain that night.

I guess you always start off wide-eyed about everything. But the novelty wears off as soon as you come to the realization that any stranger you lay your eyes on the street might have a totally unique story, a story that might remain a mystery to you forever. You realize the planet is filled to its brink with extraordinary people doing all sorts of things. That’s why you would, while traversing the vast and lonely world, reminisce more furiously about the suburbia.

The world out there can be a vile one. A lonely one. A troubled one. One in which it’s hard to stay alive. But if we can all dig into our hearts, see ourselves for who we are, and learn to forgive and reconcile, maybe we can also let go of the cold, exoskeletal shells of protective covers; let go of the habit of keeping people at a distance; let go of the need to hide our insecurities and conceal our mistakes. In doing so, perhaps we might rediscover the fine world that is worth fighting for.

So don't become discouraged when the suffocating reality comes crashing down. Sometimes dreams are broken to make space for new ones. They represent a direction, but they’re not always the destination. Perhaps we don’t grow toward them, or for them. We grow to exceed them. Maybe we’re not quite ready for them today, but I know we’ll be ready someday. If we don’t get there, we’ll get somewhere. And I hope that the belief in someday, the dream of somewhere, will be our solace in midst of the ceaseless cluelessness of life.

I'm a student at ☉ Yale studying the intersection between computer science and design and also economics. I like basic things such as watching Chinese TV, making Spotify playlists, crying to YouTube videos, collecting song lyrics, and yelping. If you'd like to find out more about the interesting personality I never knew I had, you can check out my basic opinions, my basic art, or go find me ↗ while I get lost in space.

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