For three years the word “divestment” has been peppered throughout campus publications, plastered on the walls of Val and scrawled with chalk on the steps of Frost. But what does it really mean?

At a meeting earlier this year, President Martin, worried about the social poverty of dorm life, exclaimed to RCs, “Bring on the fun!” This promulgation’s metrical line conjured up what could be a hilarious parody of Stephen Sondheim’s “Send in the Clowns,” the ballad from “A Little Night Music” in which protagonist Desirée ponders the ironies and tribulations of her life. More on that later.

In the last few years, the Amherst community has made incredible strides in the campus-wide conversation about mental health. The administration has renewed a full-time position for mental health awareness and education for Jessica Gifford, who endorses and finances a team of effective student initiatives. The wellness fair has become more prominent and has featured more groups every semester. There’s hardly a student who doesn’t try to sign up for the massages in Keefe during finals.

Whatever your gender identity, I encourage you to venture into the larger of the two stalls in the first-floor men’s bathroom of Frost Library. There, to your left, you shall see, inked on the gray metal barrier between the toilets, a challenge, of sorts: “Top 10 Nicknames for Biddy’s House.”

Ever since I was young, I was fascinated by the idea of true love. With my parents as the love model I would grow to most fervently admire, I was bound to have unreal expectations. They met at a young age, fell head over heels for one another and continue to be happily married. Without doubt, their passion always seemed to be capable of great action, and it was inconspicuous that they quarreled.

When I left Bryce Monroe’s production “The Lower Frequencies,” I was angry. I felt attacked, marginalized and stereotyped. I somehow felt simultaneously invisible and horribly, garishly visible. I felt muted by the inadequacy of language in speaking my reaction and trapped by the in trusion of others who did so for me. The irony of what I, a member of the “model minority,” felt does not escape me. It was not the play that made me react this way, but the question-and-answer session that followed.

This piece is inspired by Thomas Dumm’s article “Taking Yourself Seriously,” which appeared in the Amherst Disorientation Guide.

I write this letter to the few: the few students on campus who struggle under the weight of participating in too many extracurriculars. I write as someone who has walked this path, and who had diverged from it. I also write as a human speaking on the aspect of our condition that is loneliness.