16. Wrong number calls from my kitchen counter

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Nova

I took the subway for the first time in a while today.

Tony, Violet, and I are going to brunch while Roma is out of town, so that we can plan her late birthday party- which is becoming less of a birthday party the longer we take to plan it.

I'm excited to plan the party, but I'm also excited to finally socialize with people who aren't law professors or law students. I haven't seen anyone aside from the people in the seminars in a few weeks, and I feel like I'm going insane.

School and work have been keeping me up at night- quite literally.

Mae still sends me files to read through. And I have piles of research papers and essays that are due by the end of next week. The only time I get to sleep is when I'm taking the subway to Brooklyn.

It's taken just two weeks for me to lose any and all hope in myself. I come home after my seminars and think, I can't fucking do this. There's no way I can be a successful lawyer- when I can barely stay awake in my classes.

The only thing keeping me going is the big fear of failure that suffocates me. The thought of my parents looking at me and saying, "We all knew you would do this."

The thought of people looking down on me is more motivating than any Ted talk.

Normally my seminars start in the morning and end just before the sun sets. Luckily, the one I have today starts in the evening and ends really late, so I got to sleep in.

Violet chose the place we're eating at, which means it's going to be very fancy. I wanted to be comfortable while dressing for the occasion. I'm wearing a white button-up shirt, blue jeans, and white mary-janes. I left my hair down and accessorized it with gold rings, necklaces, and earrings.

 I left my hair down and accessorized it with gold rings, necklaces, and earrings

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I walk the streets of Manhattan, passing busy crowds of people on the streets. I turn the corner. I double-check my phone to make sure I'm at the correct address before walking into the building. The rooftop we're eating at is called the Republica.

The inside of the building is a frenzy of people dressed in suits and dresses- making me feel under-dressed. Luckily, I'm able to slide past them. I ask a person who works at the restaurant directions to the roof and walk up.

The whole building is fancy, and the stairwell that leads up to a set of double glass doors lined in gold isn't anything less. I push past the clear door, feeling the breeze against my hair.

The roof is busy. People are walking around, waiters moving around tables with silver trays, chatter filling the windy air. I spot two familiar faces at a table near the ledge, so I rush up to the table and slide into a seat.

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