It is almost the end of my second year, and I look over my shoulder at the two years I spent here. Two years! It sounds like a long time, but in truth, it feels like the time is slipping like sand through my hands. I have two more years here, then what? The future lies in front of me like a fork in the road. I still have time before I get to it. I’ll figure it out when I do.
But amidst all this, something remains constant. Through the gloom of exam week and the boredom of those initial lowkey days at the start of the trimester – if anything has been consistent, it has been the friends I made along the way. And I am so glad it has.
Sure, we started off as first years do, with a huge friend group. It is understandable. I do not fault us for thinking that we would be the exceptions to friend breakups. Being in your late teens is a heady experience, and I cannot sully mine with more regrets. How do I not regret it? I place myself in the body of me, much older, skin like paper, and veins like outlines. I tell myself I’ll look back at life with fondness and soak in the feeling of being alive through those memories. So no, I do not fault us for discovering who we are, who we wish to be with, and figuring ourselves out. We’re all in our own boats, watching each other drift by. Some move faster, others slower. Some are on different currents, and others – some others – are in tandem with your pace.
I look back on my first year, at the walks we shared, the breakfast conversations (we used to have breakfast, imagine that), the dinners where we would play songs and dance by moving our shoulders and hands – because it is college, and nobody truly cares enough. The first year was easier, more innocent, and held the promise of exuberance, youth, and adventure, almost.
But the second year rolled around. We finally knew our majors – or at least our courses – and it was harder, not having your friend next to you in class, playing random online games, or making plans for dinner. Still, the second year showed me things that were much more valuable. One: the importance of showing up, of celebrating wins, and grabbing those little free moments and using them to the fullest potential. We saw acting debuts, found partners, hosted events, figured out shared interests, and were vulnerable. And each time, it did not matter how far away or how busy we were, what mattered was the showing up, the hugs, the reassurances, the encouragement, the laughter that faded teary eyes.
Second, it also taught me the importance of being friends with myself. I cannot be a good friend if I cannot be friendly to myself. It was a process, but me and I are getting along, seeing eye to eye, even vibing as we used to in those days of carefree summers and winters. I suppose stress and societal expectations can make you someone you aren’t, but the point is to show up. To be there for yourself, so you can be there for others. To be kinder, gentler, and patient with yourself, as you are so magnanimously with others.
So the second year comes to a slow, winding halt. I have endterms to write, travel to do. But when I come back here, on sweet, darling July, I know I will be coming back to people who feel like finding the perfect seat in class, those long evening walks near the perimeter.
And I am so thankful for it all. No evil eyes, please! 🧿