This piece was written in April of 2026

Memory sometimes feels like a melting clock. We remember, but from time to time, the things we once wondered about the most decay in our brains. Surrealist painter Salvador Dalí incorporated this wondering feeling into his 1931 painting, The Persistence of Memory. This painting was meant to critique the fluidity of time, showing a dream-like state.

I fell into a dream-like state when I saw The Persistence of Memory in a dream of mine. It was in a small art gallery, highlighted with white walls and marbled floors. Of course, I had no idea why I was there, nor did I understand why I stared at this one painting for hours. Eventually, when I forced myself to wake up, I realized why I kept coming back to it—because of the challenges of living in reality.

When I turned a certain age, I thought the world would fall in my hands, but each time I blinked, it slipped right out. Western was meant to be my world, but each step I took on campus felt more and more like my worst nightmare. The nights became longer and the mornings became shorter and my mental health was hanging by a thread. I had no one to talk to and nowhere to go. As much as I enjoyed walking on campus, sometimes Macomb didn’t feel like a breath of fresh air, but like pollution.

I didn’t feel like I belonged on campus. Being a black student in a predominantly white space had its own struggles, but that’s not what this piece is about. Persistence has always been defined as a way to achieve your goals with determination. However, my determination was slipping by the second, as I was reading between five-eight books every night for different classes and still having to wake up every morning. Just going to learn was difficult; it made me weaker and I felt small in classrooms because other students in these courses felt big and ready to be challenged, while I sat there empty and lost on whether or not I’d eaten a hot meal in the last few days (I probably hadn’t).

The real struggles of being a college student are what nobody talks about. It’s almost as if it became a taboo. If you bring up said struggles in classes, the first thing that flies out of a person’s mouth is, “This is something you’re simply meant to do.”…But is it? I don’t feel like it is.

Hearing those words sometimes made college feel like a castle and the people in it reminded me of the most famous character tropes, like the Evil Step-Mother and Step-Sisters. “Fix my clothes Cinderella! Wash my hair!” It made me feel pathetic, at times, complaining and feeling sorry for myself. In some aspects, I felt like Cinderella when her dress was ripped apart, all because her family didn’t want her to achieve the life she deserved. In this case, I’m not saying college took away my achievements, but it took away my feeling of being happy in exchange for being worth something. It sometimes had me questioning if leaving campus was the best idea for me.

While I dreaded campus, it was a different experience engaging with students and making new friends. However, the atmosphere at Western wasn’t meant for me, and I was far away from my parents. I couldn’t force myself to feel happy staying at a place where I didn’t fit. I always felt like a puzzle piece being forced into the wrong space. This idea of forcing my way into a better education caused me to be sick all the time. Whether it was the flu, stomach pains, or huge migraines that never wanted to go away, these signs were persistent in my memory and forced me to go home early during my first semester of my last year. Although I met pretty good professors, like Doctor Di Carmine (shoutout to her), who made my last semester great. These issues with my health soon made me realize Western wasn’t my home. I was diagnosed with Pulsatile Tinnitus, which made life a little harder for me, but stress was the root of the problem, and my stress all came from school, working hard, and striving to be better. I forced myself to push through school when I should’ve left, but my perseverance and pride didn’t allow me to.

The painting, The Persistence of Memory, was a clear indication of how I truly felt about college. My subconscious mind was showing me how I forced myself through obstacles and challenges to be something: to be a student, to be smart, to have a career, and to be a role model. But everything I did to get to this point felt like it was melting right in my hands. If I was to step back from campus, would I have the same feeling?

Being home feels like time is moving faster and I’m able to get things done quicker and graduate even faster. Although, Western is a somber memory, I will forever cherish my experience and the feeling of walking under the warm sun, navigating towards Simpkins Hall, which is probably my second home. Whether I will ever come back to Macomb is a question I have pondered for a while. Learning from a distance made me realize that being in classes isn’t all that bad, but time always reminds you to live your life to the fullest. Being happy and having a smile on your face is worth more! Choose your own happiness and path! You’ll always be destined for better.

Edited by Karissa L Geisinger and Carter L. Myers