This piece, written by an anonymous Minerva student, is a part of a new anonymous creative writing feature series. If you feel inspired, submit your own work here

Stupid people, I feel hurt, hurt that we’re leaving, hurt that we left.

We were supposed to conquer our biases during Foundation Year. What happened? 

We were not supposed to be stupid. Given a domain of loss, we were supposed to minimize being risk-averse at the 5% possibility that our borders would remain shut. 

“Borders are closing! Quick make a decision! Quick, quick, quick…  System 1 thinking, is it not?”

Ohhh, sure… 

We thought about our families, 

Of what might happen in four months, 

Of what a pandemic means in a “Third World Country” – we rich world, “civilized” fuck.  

Stupid people, 

I am angry at how easy we gave up.

India was difficult: this was our excuse.

Was our stay not suited to our liking?

Was the air too bad for our health?

Were the streets too crowded for our walking?

Were the people too mean when they stared?

Or were we just not up for the challenge?

Maybe, we are better than those who stayed.

Maybe, we can see things they can’t seem to weigh.

Maybe, time will prove them wrong.

But now I am only angry,

Angry that we left in a day,

Angry at how we overreacted, packed our bags, and fled.

And then we cried! “I didn’t have a choice,” we said!

But of choices, we had plenty.

We left.

As if we didn’t know how much we change in half a year.

We left.

Ourselves counting.

By the time we meet, 174 days will pass.

Some will find love, sink into depression, and then do their best to stay afloat.

Others will find God, then create their God, and then stop believing in God.

Because 174 is a lot of time.

Enough time to become a chef or go across America walking.

Enough time to write a book or start an NGO or watch one’s dog give birth to puppies.

Enough time to think about who we want to be and then iterate one day after the other.

When reality poops us out and we settle into our new dormitories,

We’ll be different stupid people.


I will not meet you again.

I will meet another you and that’s alright.

But it ain’t.

Out of all the stupid people, I am the stupidest one, having relied on someone who walked away when things got rough.

I wanted us to change together. 

Now, I’m just hurt.