By Ariana Alvarado I cannot help but be a worrier. I see shadows in my closet, like a child who fears, who cries themselves out, because how else are they to learn? There are moments, fleeting, yes, and short, where I am nothing but love for you. I am reduced to reaching. I am afraid. I dream of drowning, of rejection, of catching fire and blades that know too much of me.  I hope that when I fall, the ground is soft and loamy, suitable for growth. I hope I will always be able to speak like this: laid beneath an island's sun, capturing the warmth in our skin,  pressed to the ever merciful Earth.    Ariana Alvarado graduated summa cum laude in May 2024 with a degree in English. She was president of the Ariel Literary Society, student advisor for the Pen and Sword Open Mic Club, creative director for BU Showcase, co-Student Program coordinator and writing coach for the Writing Center, and a member of the national honor society Omicron Delta