Sprinkling Fling ✓

01.

Kiya

Endless amounts of text on the human body are slowly putting me to sleep.

It's the start of my sophomore year, we're only a few weeks in, but I'm already studying in the library on a Friday night.

Most of the students here amongst me are guilty of procrastinating until the very last moment to finish their work. They are now struggling to finish their essays before their deadline at midnight, this very same Friday. It's the typical student culture. Who doesn't recognize themselves in that behavior—keep on postponing until the last minute.

It is close to 11 pm now. I've been looking at how the library slowly empties out. Heaps of students make it to the exit with either a content expression or the opposite-looking beatdown—having surrendered to the fact they won't succeed and therefore just submitted their work.

I continue to study, forcing myself to look at my books. However, I am not doing a great job as I keep looking up whenever someone passes by me to leave. A wave of anxiety cripples me as I watch more people leave.

A little after 11 pm, I gather my study books and put them all away; to leave. Most people have already left, and I am not looking forward to spending time, all alone, in a massive library.

I've never been a fan of spending time alone, it makes me an easy target. That trauma stems from my childhood and from a horror movie I've seen recently. I get aggravated by any sound when I'm alone.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I make my way towards the exit of this dusty library that still holds character.

I'm leaving much earlier than I had previously anticipated.

I had planned to stay here all night. I have a quiz on Monday for Human Anatomy. That also happens to be my excuse to be here instead of out partying. Though, without it—I would be in exactly the same place.

Parties are not my scene. Any social gathering isn't my scene honestly, so whenever I get invited to something I will say I need to study. My friends know it's not true but they started to accept it at one point. They still verbally invite me out of courtesy.

I walk by the library reception on my way toward the exit. I spot Miss Stone behind the counter, her legs perched up and engrossed with a book as her night shift is about to start.

"Goodnight, Miss Stone," I say my goodbyes to the librarian who has helped me on multiple occasions.

"Night dear, good luck with your exam." She smiles.

Miss Stone is too kind for this world. I always get that motherly feeling from her whenever I'm here, it makes up for the fact that I only see my mother a few times a year at most since she lives in Pittsburgh.

"Thank you so much, I will need it." I smile back at her before continuing to the exit.

I'm going to fuck up this exam. I was warned about studying Human Physiology before I landed in college but it was always a dream of mine; ever since I was 14, I had broken my ankle and ended up going to physical therapy.

I can't say the physiotherapists there inspired me to become one too, but the whole process of being in physical therapy is what motivated me to become one. At the time I was very dissatisfied with the treatment, nothing worked. This is when I started to research methods myself, miraculously I was able to find a treatment that worked.

After that, I became obsessed with the physical healing process of the human body.

In high school, I volunteered to help the physician for the football team—it was mainly to learn more in the field—that launched me into deciding to do my major in physical therapy.