Thahabu

Once the semester was finally over, I arrived home with a pile of unfinished computer science homework sitting in my laptop. My professor was nice enough to give me an extension before grades were due. To honor this gracious favor I spent most of the weekend typing Excel formulas and making basic PowerPoint presentations. I finished the majority of it by the weekend, which was a huge accomplishment considering it was a month’s worth of work (shame on me). Later, I rewarded myself by going to a Christmas party my friend threw. Many of the partygoers were writers and old friends. It was the most fun I’d had in four months.

I got to hang out with my friends Lucy and Calyx, whom I haven’t seen since the summer, and even made new friends who are the sweetest! The night was filled with laughs, mass cuddling, selfies of that mass cuddling, and spontaneous bathroom haircuts. I was at ease—the polar opposite of the way I feel at my university—surrounded by people who understood me and who wanted to welcome me with open arms. It felt like stretching after a giant had twisted me into a pretzel, or something. I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. My face ached from all the smiling I did that night.

Around 5 AM, Calyx, Lucy, Maggie, and I tried sleeping in the tiny, endearing office. We were literally piled on top of each other until I realized I was kneeling on Maggie. Although she didn’t complain, I suggested we move to the living room. Where Maggie and Lucy commandeered the pullout chair and floor while Calyx and I shared a couch. Our host had blessed us with an abundance of blankets, sheets, and David Bowie pajamas.

It was such a amusing ridiculous night, the type of nights I’ve missed since coming to college. I love the silliness and randomness of various people doing impressions and yelling. These are nights my 12-year-old self dreamed of. In fact, earlier this month I noticed that even though my self esteem is at an all time low, I see now that my much younger self would think I’m the coolest person in the world. She’d look up to me and be proud of who I’ve become. At 19 I’m exactly who I said I would be when I was in grade school. Thoughts like these definitely help with my depression.

I hoped that I could build on this feeling, so that my self-confidence could dig itself out of the rut it’s been in for the past year. I definitely kept my spirits up this break by hanging out with Leah, but I noticed that was the only time I was actually happy and at ease, and that bothers me. I don’t want to be someone who is only happy when they’re around other people. I used to be the type of person who was creative when they were alone, and who was happy with solitude. I loved myself so much. That’s what happiness is to me: Enjoying who you are as a person, by yourself. Maybe I’ll pick up drawing again, and the other activities I used to love doing alone. It’s going to be a difficult journey, but I’m sure I’ll find myself along the way. ♦