memories from the sweep are still rushing through my head

Sorry about the vent, I really needed to let this out somewhere.

I was there while the sweep was happening, and I haven't gotten anything productive done since. everything from those last two days still feels completely surreal. My mind is rushing nonstop with all of the memories, and every single one of them still feels as vivid as a video recording. My throat still feels stiff from all of the shouting, but I'm honestly impressed at how quickly it recovered because at first it felt like I permanently damaged it or something. Once the night fell upon us and cops started lining up around the camp, the peaceful ambiance of the day completely dissipated. I brought saline to help treat someone who was shivering and squealing from the pain of his rubber bullet wound. I learned how to properly wear a gas mask and how to neutralize tear gas shells. I saw my friends, club members, and TA's, most of them wearing the same protective gear as mine. I felt the tight grasp of my peer protestors and reciprocated it as we pushed the frontline to stop them from being toppled by the fully armed police. I learned what a flashbang looks like when it's popping right above your head and how loud they are even when you're wearing ear plugs.

Despite everything I learned that day and the amount of protective gear I had on me, once the police started ripping down the barricades– which we built and reinforced throughout the entire day– like paper, I ran away like a fckn pussy. I was told the rain of flashbangs was "only" a scare tactic, but it sure as hell did its job. I was panicking and I kept forgetting to breathe. My mind froze as I was consumed by fear. Even when I was escaping from the encampment like the pussy I said I was, the person guarding the entrance handed me a pocket warmer with a smile after telling me the exact route. Why were you so kind to me?

Only after I finished my shower and texted all of my friends that I'm okay, tears started gushing down my face. The sun was rising, helicopter noises still roaring, and I had just heard the police completely broke into the encampment.

Truly, everyone there was so, so kind. Like nothing I've seen before. I don't regret joining the encampment at all and I want to do it again once we re-build it. Especially at night when people are needed. Next time, I'll do a better job and hopefully teach someone else on how to do the same. It was truly a beautiful and incredible experience to work with / help people i've never met before as if we were related by blood, and the amount of people who showed up both in and out of the encampment was astonishingly heartwarming.

I'm mad at this school and at everything that we were protesting about. My feelings of appreciation for my peer protestors are just as strong, but could that be said for everyone else who/whose beloved ones are literally fucking dying out there? Could that be said for all of my exhausted peers who got arrested, and are unsure how this might affect their futures? Could that be said for protestors who gave it their all just for UCLA to ignore our demands and call the fucking cops on us while doing nothing when counterprotesting mobs were throwing explosives and weapons?

I know it'd be a miracle is UCLA actually meets all five of our demands. I think that's all the more reason why we must keep fighting. How else could we make drastic changes? Some other universities that have divested merely delivered empty promises or bargained for shitty compromises. We can't afford that.

This situation is tiring and exhausting. I need to take care of myself, make sure I'm eating and sleeping enough, and get prepared for my midterms. But holy shit it is hard to touch base with reality when so many emotions are occupying your head.