By Kayla Smith

As I sit in this coffee shop 1,500 miles away from you, I question our story. I question our purpose and my purpose to you. When you feel like the world is collapsing on top of you, I am right there by your side, but when I feel the same, what do you do? People tell me that should matter, but it doesn’t really to me. I am your friend, and friends are always there to support each other without a form of transaction. 

But it’s messy, isn’t it? As I sit in this coffee shop 1,500 miles away from you, I’m not sure what is louder: my heart or my head. Can’t it be both? Can’t we do the rational and irrational thing at the same time, one in the same? No? Yes? Maybe?

Maybe being “friends” means something different to me than it does to you. That is very possible. But still, as I sit in this coffee shop 1,500 miles away from you, I feel as though I should be right next to you. You are my friend, even if I am not yours. 

Kayla Smith (she/her) ‘28 is majoring in architecture with a minor in sociology. She writes and creates art as a form of processing and expression. She loves scrapbooking, spending time with loved ones, and running.