By LAURA SANCHEZ, Opinions Editor
I seemed to have misplaced my heart on an airplane. If found, please return as soon as possible. It’s a normal-sized heart, nothing that special, just your regular chambers and arteries and ventricles. Pretty standard stuff. Aside from its essential functions – you know, pumping blood to my veins and lungs and whatnot – I miss it quite a bit for its other metaphorical functions, like making sure that I care and am emotionally invested in things. I think I’m developing a bit of separation anxiety; nothing seems quite right after that faithful moment on an airplane a bit over a week ago, as I was returning from my break spent back at home in Mexico.
I know my heart has abandoned me, because it couldn’t bear the thought of coming back to Michigan, to this frightfully cold weather, to the winter blues that envelope my system every January, and to the icy winds that numb my face. It didn’t want to face the thought of having to go back to school, to repeat the excruciating and stressful learning processes that just about finished me last semester.
My heart abandoned me because it misses my wonderful parents who love me so and still ache our separation. It misses the house I grew up in. It misses my high school friends, whom incredulously, still manage to be some of the most important people in my life today. It misses the yellow, blissfully warm sun. It misses the bright, spicy colors of the food. It misses the gaping mountains that surround my city. It misses the loud jumble of the markets. But my heart also abandoned me because it knows that I’m always whiny and self-entitled at this time of the year, when everything seems so bleak, the future feels so dim, and nothing seems quite right. I don’t blame my heart for abandoning me. I would do the same.
So what am I to do right now? I guess I should stop complaining and start accepting. I have to start accepting that I decided to live in Michigan, that I was the one who was excited at living in a state that experienced forceful winters. Well, at least I was excited three years ago, when I’d experienced snow a couple of times in my life. I was the one who decided to live thousands of miles away from my family and friends, away from my comfort zone, and away from something that was safe. I’m the one that keeps being brave and positive about my situation, except when I feel weak and faint and negative about everything. I have to accept that the sun isn’t always going to come out, metaphorically and physically. Sometimes life isn’t going to go the way I planned. But other times, the sun will come out. The days begin to get clearer, a bit warmer, a bit livelier, and everything will magically seem actually okay.
So heart, if you can feel what I’m saying right now, I’m imploring you to come back to me. Life might seem unattractive this second, but I promise that it isn’t. There’s a ton to look forward to. There are trips to be made, friends to laugh with, concerts to go to, words to pour out, and books to read. The snow will melt and hey, there are a few sunny days here and there. In fact, I surprised myself by jamming out to Taylor Swift the other day while I slowly drove home in a snowstorm. I guess the snow makes me happy sometimes, and I’m slowly cheering up. But I still miss you greatly. My lungs do too. So please, come home?