The Smell of Loneliness

The following story was submitted by Amelia Epp, artist, art educator extraordinaire, and all-around lovely lady. Read her fantastic blog here.

This past winter I was in between living situations, and ended up staying with my mom in family housing at Simon Fraser University for a month. In addition to being run-down, austere, concrete structures, the SFU residences are located on a campus at the top of a mountain, isolated from and at least 10 degrees colder than the surrounding city. Not surprisingly, this winning combination has not been a recipe for happiness in my life. And unfortunately, this was not my first experience with the dreaded SFU student residences - I had first moved into them about 10 years prior, as a first year undergrad.

Living on campus once again, I was constantly reminded of my previous experiences there. Rounding each corner on campus reminded me of encounters, routines, and emotions that I had long since forgotten. As I was walking down a cold, damp, concrete corridor one night I was struck by a distinct smell, which I remembered clearly.

More than any visual cue on campus, this smell conjured up in me the memory of the loneliness I had experienced in my first years at SFU. And more specifically, it was for me the smell of “I want a boyfriend”.  It was at this point that I was officially reacquainted with my rather shy and awkward 18-year-old self. I clearly remembered walking through the campus observing couples, channeling all of my wishes for friendship, companionship, and affection into the singular wish to find a boyfriend. 

It was a relief to move away from campus after my one month stint, leaving behind lonesome smells and awkward ghosts of past selves.
 
P.s. I am now happily married to a fellow SFU alumnus. I found him five years after my first move away from the SFU residences. We did not meet on the SFU campus.

-Amelia Epp