If we were having coffee right now I would apologize profusely for being so late. It’s just that I’ve had so much to do. I feel awful for rescheduling so many times but I’m finally here ready to talk to you.
If we were having coffee right now I would say “It’s lovely to finally meet you face to face!” Or I would say “It’s been so long.”
I would ask you what you’ve been up to, how’s the family and etc.
You would answer my questions and I’d smile and laugh when you’d say a joke or something.
Then the conversation would turn to me and I would tell you about having to move back to Oxford this Sunday.
You would be able to tell that this development leaves me with mixed emotions. “Aren’t you excited?” You’d ask confused.
“I am. I’m happy that I’ll be seeing my friends again and it’s the final year! I want to do as much as I can to cherish it, really.”
“But?” You would probe.
“I’m scared.” I’d be honest. I’m scared out of my mind. Oxford is the proverbial bubble. You’re in your college, you spend time with your friends, and you only have to worry about the next essay you have to write. And maybe finals fast approaching.
It’s scary. Time has gone so quickly and I feel like university is been the shortest experience I went through in my life. It’s three years. But It seems like yesterday that I applied and got in and started.
I’m worried about disappointing people. I’m worried about disappointing my parents, my tutors and myself. I’m fucking worried. And I’m scared out of my mind. I feel like I’ve been training all my life for this moment. Since I started going to school as a child, I’ve been training myself for this marathon, this final event. And the goal is to get the piece of paper that says: World, Asta Diabaté has a degree. She’s graduated from Oxford. And the world is her oyster now.
I’m worried about the future. But most of all I’m worried about the present. I’m worried about falling in the same pattern of last year, feeling constantly disappointed with myself, feeling like an imposter where I am, feeling like I don’t deserve to be where I am. What if my mood ruins it all again for me? After all second year was supposed to be a breeze, right? But it just felt awful. I felt like I had no way to turn, and I was spiraling…..
But I would tell you that I don’t want to burden you with my problems. And I would apologize for bringing this still up. I wanted this coffee meeting to be chilled, to be about us talking about light-hearted stuff, and potentially debating politics, if you happen to be a politics geek.
But thank you for listening.
“So what did you think about Pig-gate?” You would ask.
I would laugh.
You would squeeze my hand and that’s more than words could ever do to comfort me.
“I’m getting a new phone tomorrow. Super excited!” I would say.
If we were having coffee right now, what would you actually talk to me about?