The cold serves as a reminder to tune into the love that once fueled you, as it lives inside you as well. All it takes is remembering. Even the simplest recall of a memory warms me more than a sweater ever could. Do I wish it could physically manifest as well? Yes, but sadly this is reality, and we make do. I am all the love I’ve ever received, and it is my duty to nurture and maintain it.

Welcome to Thought Daughters, where we’ll document our thoughts and feelings about growing up in real time. As a freshman and a transfer, we’re both learning to exist as new versions of ourselves. We’re figuring out friendship, independence, identity and how to make this city and university feel like home. Here we will write honestly about happiness, emptiness, relationships, the in-betweens and what it means to become yourself when everything around you feels temporary. We hope you join us and enjoy this adventure.

Whether I like it or not, that is reality. I have to accept it, for not doing so causes greater pain. So I give in to this life and aim to get the best out of each experience, even if that includes being crammed against a stranger who smells strongly of cheap cologne. I will never be in this moment, quietly sitting on the bus again — well, at least not until Thanksgiving. But each one of these instances is and will be unique. On some rides, I meet people, but in this case, I reflect and choose to acknowledge my existence.

Black student artists at Boston University detail their artistic pursuits at Boston University, ranging from fashion to painting to graphic design.