OLIN LIBRARY—At the end of his stressful prelim season, Mark Velazquez ‘24 was finally able to snag one of the first floor desks at Olin to get some dreaded work done, only to make a bittersweet observation of the womb-like warmth left by the seat’s prior occupant.
“I remembered what it was like to be a zygote… it was wonderful yet tormenting,” said Velazquez, “I have been extremely stressed out recently, so when my bone-cold buttocks hit the sweet solace of this wooden seat, I reflected on the last time I was truly at peace. I pushed myself to go back into this blissfully fetal mental state, and it has been truly eye opening for me.”
“All thanks to this slightly slick, toasty warmth, I began to feel relaxed. It was as if this maternal figure I was cozied into was whispering ‘It’s okay, you’ll be okay… Come to mommy…’ right in my ear. And at that moment, I believed her. I wanted to be comforted. I wanted to be reassured. I don’t want to finish my problem set, I want to retreat from the external world and reattach my umbilical cord.” Velazquez sidled deeper into the creaking chair, experiencing a primal yearning for the warm amniotic fluid he had previously spent a euphoric nine months in.
“But this is just a fantasy. I am in a library seat that has been heated up by a stranger’s ass. I was left longing for my home, the uterus, with a harsh pain in my heart. What’s the point? Does this warmth exist just to taunt me? To remind me that I will never be able to experience the membranous angelic existence within a mother ever again? Or is it to punish me? Dear God, what have done to warrant such a torture? I am no longer a fruit of a womb, but a rotten moldy vegetable left to die in the garbage. I couldn’t stand it, I had to escape this forsaken hell called Olin.”
Velazquez finished with a plea: “I am left wistful by this experience, and urge all fetuses to appreciate your time in peace while you can and to stay in there as long as possible. I would also like to politely ask my professor for an extension.”