Camouflage.

     I did not leave for those reasons.  Not the ones you've always believed.  I know in my most honest heart that I am the type.  I warm slowly to love a new friend, but I will hold on to hurt for years like it's a cherished thing.  I remember all the unguarded moments  with you, which come so rarely and unnaturally for me.  What have I said in the past that will allow you to feel better about my decision? 
     "She always seemed so resentful."
     You assume someone upset me.  You assume that it was just too much effort, or that I'd prefer to break some rules rather than fight the good fight.  How insulting.  You, my dear friend, cannot bear to picture a heaven without me in it.  For that I am grateful.  I still want you to like me.  I just can't do it at the expense of liking myself.
     I don't want to talk about the reasons we stopped.  I am not looking for you or anyone to fix my problem, because for me it's not a problem.  Discussing it, having you point out that it's so very obvious to you, will only drive a wedge between us.  I don't have many friends left to lose.
     Messages from people I barely ever spoke to arrive in the mail.  So many unannounced visits, like gentle attacks on a very private introvert's personal sanctuary.  A well-meaning but socially excruciating talk with the woman who once, twenty years ago, lectured my boyfriend for driving too fast.  Eyes nearly meet mine at school functions, then quickly glide away. 
     "She looks like a freak now.  Probably always had a rebellious streak."
     My purple hair makes me smile every time I see it.  It feels good, like I am a butterfly that was locked in a cocoon for years.  This is a small part of who I am, but was always afraid to show.  Blending in was always so much easier.  But it hurt a lot more, too.
    
     
    

College again. Again.

     I have been wanting to go back to school for years.  In fact, it has been eating me alive for a very long time.  With the help and encouragement of a few people, I started pursuing it again a few months ago. 
    When I go onto a college campus, I'm very aware that I don't fit in.  I never really did.  I had one semester of college before marrying Toby.  Then a few more semesters while married or married with young children.  That first time around, I was nearly the same age as everyone around me, but I felt so much older because of my additional responsibilities.  
      So, fast forward to now.  I am fifteen years older than the typical college student, with about a million more responsibilities than I ever had before.  I am chunky and I have purple thistle-fluff hair.  In some ways, I am less prepared for school than I was when I began the first time.  But now I know how badly I want this.
     After doing my FAFSA and applying to the local college, I waited.  They needed another transcript.  The I waited again...and they needed another transcript.  Finally, I took the advice to just go and stand there until something happened, because I had been growing increasingly uncomfortable with the idea that I might be rushing around the first week of classes trying to figure everything out at the last minute.
     The admissions office said I had been accepted as of the day before.  I wanted to know who could help me enroll for classes.  I'm a Unified Science Education with Physics Emphasis major.  Functionally, this means I am under the jurisdiction of both the education department and the science department...and no person from either place was available to assist.  Bum.
    The girl at the Admissions desk must have thought I looked disappointed, because she said if I went up two flights of stairs to the third floor, someone in the Registration office might be available.  I hopped up the stairs, then sat on a bench and caught my breath for a few minutes (killer cold, not that out of shape...).
     The lady in Registration, who may just be my new favorite person ever, printed out a copy of what classes counted for which requirements, and what I needed to take.  She addressed my prerequisites and together we picked two classes for me to take in the spring. 
   I walked into the hall and tried not to cry. 
   Classes start the 12th of January.