i tell her i prefer not to go to parties. she tells me she understands.

i tell her i’m going to sit this one out, i have other things to do. she tells me she’ll be back later.

i tell her i don’t understand the importance of parties, of wasting your life away with poisoned punch, and deafening bass, and unfamiliar touches from unfamiliar hands from unfamiliar people with unfamiliar faces. she tells me that’s just what college is.

my mother told me to socialize. my aunt told me not to be awkward. i told them i couldn’t help it.

i tell her have fun. she tells me she will.

my mother told me to socialize. my aunt told me not to be awkward. i told them i was here to learn.

she tells me to text her to stop drinking whenever she goes out. she tells me i don’t need to know how much she’s had already but just to tell her to stop. i tell her okay and i laugh.

she tells me she’s going out tonight. i don’t tell her to stop.

i tell myself it isn’t any of my business. my mother told me that we need to take care of each other. i didn’t tell her that i didn’t care and i still don’t care.

she tells me which drawer she keeps the condoms in. she tells me that she doesn’t plan to use them and who knows, a guy may just charm my panties off. i tell her that isn’t likely. she tells me i never know.

she tells me that i need to go to a party one day. i tell her whatever.

i tell my friends about her, the things she’s said to me, and it’s funny. they laugh and wish me luck and i don’t find out until later that maybe what i need isn’t luck.

she told me she was pre-med. i told her i was a Japanese major but i don’t think it sunk in until i moved my stuff into our living space and put up my posters featuring smiles and wannabe smirks on the gloss of Korean faces.

i tell her i’m not up to date with American pop culture society and i listen to foreign music. she tells me it’s okay.

i tell her i don’t know who is singing this song or the title, i’ve never heard it before. she tells me the missing information and that she’ll teach me everything i don’t know as if something is wrong with me. i don’t tell her i’m not particularly interested.

she doesn’t tell me she’s going out again. i expect it though.

she goes out on a Thursday night and i go to sleep at midnight because she’s a big girl and she can do whatever she wants.

she comes back an hour later and rouses me out of my sleep, telling me to get out. i tell her to fuck off in my mind because i’m too disoriented to verbalize.

i tell her it’s okay when it isn’t, and i leave.

five minutes later her drunken male friend comes rushing downstairs and tells me i can go back. i tell myself that i will not reach for my chopsticks or one of my forks and kill her.

she tells me she really going to have sex the next night. i don’t tell her she’s contradicted herself. i also don’t tell her it’s only been a week since school started.

i tell my closest friend here the story and my friend tells me i’m too nice. i tell her i know that.

i tell my closest friend here that i don’t understand the importance of parties, of wasting your life away with poisoned punch, and deafening bass, and unfamiliar touches from unfamiliar hands from unfamiliar people with unfamiliar faces. she tells me she doesn’t either, that she just goes to have fun and dance, but not for any of that other stuff.

i tell myself one day i’ll crack my shell and be sociable. i hear the girls down the hall talking about parties, and touches, and kisses, and drama. i hear one of them tell the others that’s just what college is.

but the dictionary doesn’t tell me that.

and i hope that isn’t just what college is.

© Shae Smile, 2012