Uncertainty is a plague and it’s all I know when I think about the rest of my life. My mind is a pinwheel in a hurricane spinning with questions I have no answers to. How can I be happy later on when I have no idea what I want to do and what steps I need to take in order to achieve said happiness? My idealistic hopes of having a job that makes a difference clashes with the realistic you-have-to-pay-rent aspect of everyday life clashes with wanting to major in something I’m passionate about clashes with majoring in STEM and being practical. I spent the entirety of last week trying to come up with a 4-year-plan of classes that I need to take in order to fulfill double major requirements. My search history is laden with questions to Google asking ‘what majors are recommended for law school?’ They tell you once you get a Yale degree you’re all set, but uncertainty’s claws are sunk deep into me and I am worrying and worrying and WORRYING about the future.
In what seems to be direct contradiction, I am also unbelievably happy. I love the classes I’m taking; there is a world out there that I know too little about and exploring new things in all the different academic disciplines gets me so excited. From discovering reasons behind different social phenomena, to untangling the historical roots of the lesbian and gay rights movement, my brain is digging and digging and I don’t want it to ever stop.
Back at home I used to feel lonely at 2 a.m. when everyone was asleep and the night was still, but I never feel alone here—not when staying up late to reach that essay word limit and falling asleep together in the common room is an everyday occurrence. It is things like making angsty art while blasting punk rock music to let out steam and sitting in a circle holding hands recapping rose-bud-thorns that make me realize how lucky I am to be living with all my friends whom I love to bits. I am constantly enveloped in a sphere of comfort and laughs and life.
It is undeniable that my current relationship is another reason for my happiness. Flushed cheeks warm from laughter at the stupidest things, the tilt of his head before a kiss, secret smiles and stolen glances and the way his hand’s grip on mine tightens at points when he’s dreaming—I’m finding happiness tucked into small moments that no-one really gives a thought to.
But nothing will ever beat getting off a video call with your best friend and feeling so so giddy and warm and thoroughly satisfied, like finishing the last sip of hot chocolate in a log cabin while the snow outside is falling fast. Even though we’re 3000 miles apart, nothing can come between our idiotic shenanigans, i.e. switching personas on Twitter, taking Buzzfeed quizzes over FaceTime, swapping Snapchats, and talking about school and boys and life and making a bucket list for when we’re reunited in December.
Somewhere along the way of writing this post, I realized the sheer pointlessness of worrying. Society drills into your head that you need to have a set end goal in mind, and that only when you reach that goal will you be successful and therefore happy. Fuck that. I’m going to enjoy the journey, and I’m going to achieve happiness all along the way.