When Louisiana gets her heart broken, everyone can tell. Her misfortunes are especially evident here at the university, where we must sometimes ditch our bikes and skateboards for canoes and swimming trunks to get around campus.
Recently, it seems like Louisiana has been going through a particularly rough patch. Every day she must deal with a new incident, and we students are always the first to know about it. Once those dark storm clouds start rolling in, we can do nothing but look to the sky, shrug our shoulders and wonder, “Who dunnit this time?”
I can’t help but feel bad for the great state that I’ve called home for all these years, so I want to send a clear message to everyone and everything who keeps hurting her—stop it!
This beautiful state may be resilient, but that is not an excuse for the constant abuse. Between Category 4 hurricanes and an ongoing pandemic, Louisiana has had to deal with more than her fair share of trauma in the last two years. Throw in the awful condition of Louisiana sports, and I think we can all agree that no one deserves to go through so much in such a short time frame.
Eventually, even the most resilient will crack. The strongest of individuals cannot be expected to shoulder this much weight alone. They are encouraged to rely on others to pick them up; they are told that it is okay to be sad. Louisiana, however, does not receive the same treatment.
The majority of people within Louisiana’s borders want nothing more than to get out of them. Let’s be honest, the majority of us trash this state. We see all that has been thrown at Louisiana, and yet we choose to continue complaining and talk about how every other state is so much better.
Then, we wonder why the rain pours so much when Louisiana is crying. We wonder why she floods every time the rain falls. 
When I first started drafting this article, I too was going to go off on Louisiana and complain about living in this state. I was going to bemoan the nonsense that I have had to put up with these past couple weeks, especially driving in the rain—why does Louisiana always have to get her heart broken just as I’m trying to drive home?
Then, sitting on the Parade Ground one October day, I began to see the potential of this state. The grass was soft, the heat was comforting, the oak branches were swaying gently. In short, it was beautiful.
Louisiana, I do not know what you are going through, but I appreciate you. I see your beauty; I see your resilience. I understand your limits. Though others may look at your state and laugh, I stand by you. 
Anthony Bui is a 21-year-old English senior from Opelousas.