4/6

In case anyone's wondering:

Richmond was a noticeably thin envelope, who's arrival was announced with way more ceremony than I would have liked. At the word waitlisted, I matter-of-factly slid the paper back in and cheerfully quipped, "Guess God's got somewhere better." I looked up. My parents looked like someone had died. My father put a silent hand on my shoulder.

Boston was an envelope we had all forgotten about. Even at my protests about my unfinished application, they both gathered around the computer chair. I had to repeat the word didn't about 3 more times than I would have liked before they slowly walked away.

U.V.A. was an online admissions account that had been created, logged into, and viewed without my knowledge. My parents had known for hours, and my father delivered the news waitlisted with the grave quietness of a presidential assassination. Then later that night, he came downstairs to congratulate me on getting waitlisted from such a "competitive" university, and said I should be very "proud". Today I listened to my friend rattle on about going to Accepted Students Day, and how she might as well go there because "the hangover food is better." I smiled and congratulated her.

I don't care about JMU. Their websites are too unsophisticated to waste time figuring out. I know I'll get in anyway, and my parents will tell me to be proud, and I won't be because I could have slept through every class this year and still gotten in.

All I have left is William and Mary and Stanford, so I think I'm just going to buy some chocolate pudding and several movies on Thursday.

Maybe if I wasn't the one who was so matter-of-fact about it, who got over it in twenty minutes...
and I was the one to act disappointed and shocked and the one to bring it up gravely four more times that day....

... I wouldn't be so quick to cheerfully protest my fine-ness, and I wouldn't have to wait until everyone was downstairs, whispering, before I let myself shed a tear.