It was one of those long exhausting days that make you question who you are and what your purpose here on earth is. Melodramatic as it may sound, I was seething over my homework load and my swimming practice schedules, wondering how it was that I signed up for this deathbed known as college. I was sitting in the Tolbert laundry room reading one of my three required sociology textbooks while simultaneously texting my dear mother. She kept insisting that I find a way to branch out and meet people, people like me.

            “I know you’re not into sororities, but there’s got to be a cool one!” she texted. What a dreamer. My mother, of all people, should have known how terrified I am of crowds of girls and their evil ways. Thinking about groups of girls paying for their friends and attending killer parties while absentmindedly skimming my text started to make me feel sluggish, and slightly depressed. The sound of the air conditioning kept humming—it was quite hypnotic. Within moments I was fast asleep.

            “You cannot enter!” cried the pig. Why?, I thought. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was. Everyone was crowded around the mountain and the pig was sitting on top, as if the huge rock was his throne.  This creature looked like any ordinary pig, only colossal in height and width, and with a strangely menacing English accent. Even worse, he was wearing my favorite blue top—the one with the bow in the center and the swoopy back. The sight of this monstrous creature wearing my favorite shirt made me grow quickly infuriated. Who did he think he was? He was stretching it out with every exhale; I could see the seams were on the verge of splitting. He bent down from his rocky throne and made close eye contact with me—and then, disgustingly, blew a nasty waft of air in my face.

            “What’s your deal?” I bellowed, infuriated. “I just want my freaking shirt back!” The beast laughed, his giant pig belly gyrating under my cute top.

            “You think you are WORTHY of a shirt of this status? Don’t make me laugh! Now go to class.”

            “What?”

            “Sofia. Go to class. You fell asleep….Your laundry should be done now..” exclaimed the pig. Suddenly I was being shaken, by the pig…no…by my roommate, Ashley.

            “You’ve been asleep for like…ten hours,” she said. Wow, I thought; what a dream. As she exited the room I reached for my laundry basket and walked over to the dryer, still pondering over the bizarre dream I just had. What was it supposed to mean? Clearly, I’m not worthy of something; but what? It didn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense, but I was thinking so deeply about it that I faltered to realize something was drastically wrong with my laundry pile—something blue and adorable was missing.

            “My shirt!” I screamed. I tore through the pile again and again, until I was absolutely sure it was gone. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I couldn’t believe someone would have the nerve to come in and steal my shirt, from an occupied drier nonetheless. My thoughts crept back to my dream, and I realized that the entire fantasy must have been some form of reality. Asleep, it was as if some part of me realized that an injustice was being committed against me. Worse even, I began to reflect on the bitter feelings I had before I drifted off to sleep—alienation from groups of happy girls, stress from my workload—and now my favorite shirt was missing. Once more, I was sinking in a sea of melodramatic depression. Somehow I just wasn’t good enough on some level, and the world was seeking its revenge on me for being so inferior. I picked up my laundry basket, still seething, and trudged off to my dorm to drop it off.

            On my way to class, I couldn’t help but notice the slight breeze that was rustling the leaves in the trees. It brought me back to autumn days at home with my dad, picking up leaves and examining the arrays of colors. I wondered how my parents were doing, how my dogs were holding up. Thoughts of home brought forth some level of comfort, and before I knew it, my depressed disposition had blown by like the dust in the wind. My sociology class flowed by surprisingly smoothly, and I was thankful for having read the chapter after all. As I walked back to my dorm after my class, I began to wonder why I was so upset. Sure, my shirt was missing, but it was just a material possession. So what if I never achieved a level of popularity like I would in a sorority of material girls? So what if I have to drown in a sea of homework,? The results yielded can only be positive.

            I ascended the stairs to my dorm with a feeling of unannounced accomplishment. I felt good about my day for some reason. When I reached my door, to my astonishment, something blue lay in a folded heap on the floor. My shirt! I picked it up and rejoiced, bringing it close to my face. I smelled it and almost gagged. Bacon! Ew! I thought in revolted happiness. It smelled like the very pig who stole it, and yet I couldn’t care less. Some stranger had borrowed it, ate bacon in it, and yet was kind enough to return it. The world isn’t so bad after all, I thought. I headed down to the laundry room to cleanse the pig out of my shirt, once and for all.

Reflection: