The Great Indifference Posted on October 2, 2016October 2, 2016 by Eva Dietz Frigid water splashes up at my face as my legs and arms desperately thrash around in an expansive ocean. My head bobs above the surface and I take a massive gasp of air for only a second before I’m submerged again, and the tossing in the waves continues – Above and below Above and below Above and below. My life as a college student has been spent almost drowning; attempting to stay afloat in a vast, murky pool of classwork, tests, deadlines and work obligations, while trying to harmonize friendships and my family, maintaining a decent apartment and a myriad of other stressors included in day-to-day life such as my car’s third flat tire in less than a year, my cat gnawing up all of my business cards and my favorite knit sweater snagging a hanger and tearing a hole in the back. At this point, I believe I have reached what I like to call ‘Indifference Nirvana’: Indifference Nirvana [in-dif-er-uh ns – nir-vah–nah] Noun A state of being in which one has reached a heavenly state of lack of care Eva has reached her ‘indifference nirvana.’ A state of being stemmed from living in The Great Indifference for a long time She has found herself in the indifference nirvana. This Great Indifference transcends all states of depression, sadness and anxiety and nestles me into a state of simply existing. I go through the motions of functioning, but… most times I feel like I’m barely living, barely making it through or barely holding it together. Barely staying adrift. I first fell into The Great Indifference sometime during my freshman year when I caught on to the woes of being a college student; what a meaningless, guileful sham it all is! Several thousand dollars of tuition, three semesters, a major change and a messy break-up later, I found myself on board a Boeing 747 en route to dismal yet brilliant London because I decided I could run away from The Great Indifference. In London, I fell in love with a boy with freckles and a crooked grin, as well as the way the air of the city tousled my hair and puffed through my wool coat, the assorted boroughs with treasures and cobblestones, and eclectic pubs filled to the brim accompanied by folks yelling about football matches. The skies had parted and The Great Indifference fell away. I found myself inhaling and attempting to screenshot every moment in my brain because I had been thrown a life vest. I needed this to last. It didn’t last. When I arrived back home, a semester and 3,902 miles later, I was shell-shocked and fragile. I was angry because I had the one redeeming experience from my college career ripped away from me in the form of a visa that said I had to leave the country. The Great Indifference had begun to seep and ooze its way back into my life. The taste in my mouth was bitter and the words that flung out from between my teeth were spiteful, venomous and sarcastic towards nearly anyone that walked under my looming grey cloud. I had caught on to the methods of my college, my internship and my life robbing me of happiness, time and especially money. Perhaps a month or two later, I had reached my indifference nirvana in which I didn’t care anymore. I had settled that I was stuck in The Great Indifference until my schooling was done because I had convinced myself I needed to make it out alive. In one piece and with a diploma in hand. Good thing it’s almost over. On my better days, I find myself in a modest raft. Buoyant. As I row less than halfway through my final semester as a college student, I’m gripping the crumbling wooden paddles, praying that I don’t capsize. I see a glimmer of sunshine peering through the grey of The Great Indifference and I think that I might stay Above Above Above The surf. Besides, pretty soon I’ll be able to drift out to happier indifferences – to countries where I can float at my own risk, into arms of better lovers or to places where the colors and shades are so dazzling and radiant, the grey, the dullness, couldn’t possibly sink in.