My sister is like the roly-polys we used to dig up in the cul-de-sac at the end of our street and stuff into empty Oreo containers. They unfurled and stumbled about, carefree, almost reckless. She told me they could be our pets. She forgot about them approximately fifteen minutes after stealing them away from their home, but when she saw the Oreo containers two weeks later, she sobbed. 

The polys had passed. 

This older sister of mine is what society would call a “social butterfly,” but I’d like to propose “roly-polys” as the new term for these types—the ones who don’t complain about waking up ten minutes before class, who jump around the room in bursts of energy, who slide out of their chairs until only their heads remain on the seat. 

People tell me I have an RBF–that I look unapproachable. So, maybe I am writing this as my pledge to wear pink, fluffy socks to class and wiggle around the room in the morning and abandon my permanently furrowed brow. 

My sister says it’s the warm weather that crafts her inner harmony, but to her, 10℉ could feel like summer. 

Maybe it’s time we bounce into the sun, roll in the nearest patch of green, and join the poly side. We only have to learn to escape the Oreo containers.

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