A Love Letter to My Shortened Sophomore Year

Most coming-of-age movies chronicle the protagonist’s tumultuous time in high school, but I’d like mine to focus on right now.

At the cusp of twenty years old, I was at my happiest. Now, approaching twenty-one, I’ve lost the euphoria but held tight to a sense of contentment and hope for what is to come.

Exit Year Two,

To Jess, Tal, Karenna, and Andrina: thank you for making me an honorary member of the 203.

To Emily: thank you for being such an amazing roommate! Watching Netflix while you slaved over nursing classes brought me so much devious joy.

To Makenzie and Hannah: thank you for being the best neighbors ever and now, two of my closest friends. I love taking over your kitchen.

In high school, and even last year, I couldn’t have imagined my life turning out this well.

Am I still depressed? Yes. Anxious? Yeah. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the Prozac that keeps me sane every day. But…

I’ve performed in my first musical in years, I’m involved in a new club, and was lucky enough to be chosen for a leadership position in another. I’ve made new friends, stuck to a routine, and have been keeping up with all my schoolwork. That may not sound like much, but it’s a big achievement for yours truly.

In the words of Paul Rudd, “Look at us. Who would’ve thought?”.

Enter Year Three.

It feels weird to say that I’m a junior, and even weirder to experience. Like everyone else, I didn’t expect to be home for eight months in the middle of college. I definitely didn’t expect to be home, in quarantine yet again, less than two months after arriving at school.

Despite our constant hand-washing, keeping small circles, and taking other precautions, someone close to me had the worst luck by contracting COVID. I’ve been quarantining at home now for almost two weeks, and have slowly gotten over the devastation I felt when I got the phone call.

Truthfully, devastation doesn’t begin to cover the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve ridden in a single fortnight. Lately, my life has been defined by a succession of highest highs and lowest lows.

Attending online courses from home while confined to my childhood bedroom is almost impossible. My attempts to find solace and sanity consist of naps and music. (Good news: Quarantine Round 2 LRW coming soon!)

Salvaging my grades and restoring my relationships with my professors are the most important tasks at hand for when I’m next on campus. When the days start to blend together, fourteen days in isolation feels like a lifetime of loneliness. Reconnecting with friends, safely, is a must.

Yesterday, I woke up at 3:00 p.m. I walked my dog, baked a caramel-drizzled carrot cake, and washed my hair. I hope to remember those acts of self-love, rather than an act of disrespect towards me that preceded them.

For the first time, I am thankful for my goldfish-sized hippocampus. Soon, the last two weeks, days, hours, and minutes, will barely be a memory.

I believe I can come back from yet another lowest low. I am smart and capable, but my life has been uprooted. COVID has not touched my body, but it has wreaked havoc on my brain. I see good in my future! I want to be a leading player in its creation.

Happiness and success lived in my heart once; they will return. For now, I exist in between vulnerability and bravery. I live in a land of happy-ish.