Like any other person, I carry commonly found items.

A phone. A few dollars. Gum. A bookbag filled with…well, books.

Like any other person, I walk the hallways silently, carrying my weight.

And I appear normal, like any other person.

But, I’m not like any other person.

 

If someone looked closer, they’d see the difference in me.

Because, unlike any other person, there are things that I carry.

Things that no one else carries…or, at least, not for the same reasons.

 

A nametag lives in my purse.

It reads:

“PROTECT ME! Ask ALYSSA why I need Heartgard Plus.”

  It’s a red nametag, with a dog on it and some cat stickers that I added.

I carry this nametag for my internship at the Dacula Animal Hospital,

But no one can imagine its real weight.

 

Memories and experiences,

Happy and sad, good and bad.

That’s what lies in my nametag.

It whispers to me:

“Remember Jelly Bean, the kitten that was saved? She should’ve died, but she didn’t. Instead, she came back a few months later, completely healthy, for a spay surgery.”

 

Holding the nametag, my heart smiles and I tighten my grip. My mind answers:

“Oh yes! I remember Jelly Bean!! I went home praying for her when she was a sick kitten and I was ecstatic to see her again, healthy and grown up.”

 

Then the nametag whispers:

“Remember that day in the back, by the kennels? Remember how you noticed the freezer and wondered what was inside? Little did you know that you would get your answer that day.”

 

The smile disappears. I answer:

“Yeah…I remember. It was my first euthanasia. And it was a puppy, too.”

I think deeper:

“It was sad...but not in the way I imagined.

Sad, because there’s nothing that we could do. Sad, because death was the only way out.

But, it was…reassuring too.

Reassuring because that puppy would not have to suffer.”

I think back to the freezer.

“Cold, just like the death it stores,” I mutter.

 

I put the nametag down and open my bookbag to reveal tissues.

For most people tissues are an appropriate thing to carry.

Allergies, sickness, or just a sneeze might call for one.

And while the above is also true for me,

Tissues have lately had a different purpose.

Something has to catch my tears.

 

I take the folded tissues from my bag and hold them.

They’re still clean, but who knows for how long they’ll remain that way.

My mind wanders and I can feel the mix of emotions coming.

I unfold a tissue.

Here come the waterworks.

 

My mind explodes with thoughts.

These last few months have become so surreal. I’ve never been happier in my life, ever.

But…I’ve also never been as sad as I am now.

Literally, teardrops are silently flowing down my face as I write this.

You may ask why and I’ll tell you why. It’s simple:

My life is amazing.

 

My life is amazing.

Do you know all of the amazing people that fill my life?

Do you know the wonderful and amazing Rebeca or Sherman?

Or what about the incredible Windy or Annalisa?

Or the funny Ashley or Christy or the countless unmentioned others that fill my world?

Well, do you?

 

These people complete me. Every single person I know means something to me.

And I can’t replace them.

But, in less than a month, I won’t see them on a daily basis.

In a few months, I’m going to be in a dorm at the wonderful UGA in Athens.

And, even though it’ll end up being fun, something will still always be missing.

Them.

 

A pile of wadded, used tissues sits on my floor. I continue to think.

College is making me give up almost everything.

My friends, my family…even my cat.

After years and years, I’ve found people that I truly care about. People that I love.

And giving them up now, giving them up for both their dreams and my dreams,

Oh God, it hurts.

 

 

It’s like being a little kid, who can’t swim, that’s hanging around the deep end of the pool and then falls in.

You knew you shouldn’t have been there, but you still were.

And as you’re panicking and flailing your arms in the air, screaming for help, all you can do is hope that someone comes to your rescue.

 

No one’s coming to my rescue. I have to swim and save myself.

The tears stop flowing down my cheeks and I smile.

I can do it. I know I can.

I care too much about the people in my life to just let them become distant memories.

I smile and look down at my gold necklace, the last thing I carry, with a single pearl on it.

 

Pearls symbolize overcoming adversity through transcendence.

I’ve worn this necklace religiously since eighth grade and because of that, friction has worn down the back of the pearl, leaving the backside flat.

I’m sure the microscopic grains have fallen on the ground, but maybe, just maybe,

The pearl has given me some of its qualities.

It’s probably only a silly thought, but it’s a thought still.

 

My life isn’t perfect, but it’s amazing.

My future isn’t completely clear, but I know what I want out of it.

Friends, family, and a wonderful career as a veterinarian.

These are the things I carry.