Introspection
To Pay Attention
I never thought I loved Chico. But that December day as I lay curled up in my childhood bed watching the interaction between Christine and Sister Joan on my iPad, I realized that I had paid attention to it. And if I really hated it, why did I spend so much time telling other people about it?
Orders of Magnitude
Right now, I am not a scientist and I am not a poet. I am just a daughter. I have to remember: It’s simple. You just need to keep your eyes open, your hands ready.
brandon endpaper
Other kids studied hard to impress their fathers; I did it so I could get away from mine.
What It Means to Lead The Harvard Crimson
In a way, you take an oath when you are elected to this presidency, even if you don’t realize the depths of its demands at the time.
Subway Surfers
I was terrified that the rest of my life would be like high school: I would be forever chasing that next line on my resume, that laureate title or publication — swerving around railcars for one more gold coin — in hopes of one more glimpse into how to understand and describe my human condition.
Trying to Remember Louise Glück
I find myself returning to poems like “The Silver Lily” and “Witchgrass” for their drastic reimaginings of time — the eternal way perennial plants experience the cyclicity of seasons, or the striking temporality of the fragile flower. It is in light of this that her death feels strangely unreal, its finality in tension with the timelessness of her words.
Tunnel Vision
On my phone, I collected gold coins and hoverboards instead of accolades and exam scores; I traded these tokens for score boosters instead of writing mentorships. Eventually, I realized that I had sworn off one endless run only to replace it with another one.
An Asthmatic Character
“A person should stand up straight, not crooked,” my mother would whisper, referring to both the calligrapher and her creation.
No Country for Harvard Men
I felt like I had entered a thick and strange haze. Daily showers made me feel unnaturally clean, and I missed the smooth arc of the sun across the sky. I felt like a space alien walking down a crowded street and making small talk after class.
Hannah Endpaper Image
This summer, my job title was “Senior Returning Mountain Cowboy” and my life was absurd in the childhood fantasy way.
Goodbye, Beloved
To me, Sethe was the literary embodiment of womanhood — the queenly woman with blood on her hands and a tree scarred into her back. She was the personification of repression and “rememory,” the manifestation of a traumatic past into the present.
crying on a plane
I cry every time I’m on a plane. This is distressing for many: the people in my row, the flight attendant around the corner, and, to some extent, myself.
To Be Tamed
“The Little Prince” makes me homesick for all the places I’ve been and all the places I have yet to see.
sam junior year room
Every square inch of Sam's walls, and even parts of her ceiling, are covered in decorations this year.
room cover photo
My collage brings to mind precious experiences that I’d have otherwise forgotten. It’s like a library of my life, which challenges the ephemerality that my memories can easily take on.
sam senior hs room
In senior year, Sam's lived with her best friend. They decorated the room by combining their ephemera collections, and the room reached its peak as a vibrantly cozy haven.
sam room freshman hs
Sam's room freshman year of high school. After freshman year, she resolved to hold onto every single scrap that represented a moment she found herself in.