A letter to the campus wellness llamas

Illustration of two llamas intertwining necks
Nishali Naik/File

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Dear wellness llamas,

Your presence has been a solid crux of my ability to keep myself together during finals. I’m stressed — anxious while preparing for and after finishing tests, but just the sight of your wooly stature makes those worries disappear.

How is it that despite our inability to verbally communicate with each other, your kind has provided the greatest solace to us? I think I understand. When I look at you, I don’t see the reflection of my restless self, probably three days into a daily diet of boxed spaghetti. You’re probably only thinking of when your next meal is and curiously wondering about these sudden crowds of two-legged beings. That simplicity calms me down from the hustle of work and academia. I’m envious of that simplicity amid the chaotic nature of exams and essays. 

You remind me of a pet (although you are much too large to fit in my apartment probably), letting us humans pet your wooly exterior and gazing in awe at your existence. So just like coming home to a pet waiting at the door, I look forward to meeting you at the end of a long exam. 

Will you be here again soon? I’m sorry I never got to spend much time with you during my first two years at UC Berkeley. I just so happened to always schedule my job shifts or have exams during the times you came to visit. Then, when I finally made my resolution to pay you a visit at any cost, we had to face a campuswide shutdown amid a global pandemic. Have you missed us during this time or at least missed grazing on the Glade? This year may be my last chance to meet you close up and I hope I’ll get that chance. I know other students feel the same yearning that I do for you, so please do come back when you can. 

Despite the circumstances, I still keep the image of you in my mind through long study nights. You probably haven’t thought about the impact you have, but you contribute to raising me out of my depressive lows. You take my mind off destructive thoughts of failure and my struggle with imposter syndrome. Thank you for the joy and laughter you bring. Thank you for providing those few minutes when I can peacefully live in the moment. I know I’ll have to go back to the responsibilities of being a human afterward, but I’ll reminisce about being just like you, simply enjoying the moment under the warm afternoon sky without much care for anything else. 

With love, 

A Daily Cal blogger

Contact Emily Lui at [email protected].