‘Just trying to be a half-full girl in a sea of empty glasses. I think that’s the best I can give you.’

Who said second semester of senior year would be a breeze? I just want to talk.

More than anything, emotional and social challenges feel heightened. Perhaps it’s the fact that I am young and female that I find myself in this position, but the last few months have been a violent tug-of-war between forced growth and patronization.

I’m asked what I plan to do with the rest of my life in the same tone that people talk to dogs. I want to be excited about what lies ahead, but I don’t want to be dragged out of my current reality. I’ll eventually need to think about my 2051 plans, but the next four years are calling, and I must go.

Maybe it’s because I spent two years in my bedroom that people assume I’m unprepared for college. But it’s not like I spent the pandemic twiddling my thumbs — I was making the best of the terrible hand being dealt. And now I feel ready to move on.

Despite all odds, I see hope on the horizon. I know my priorities, I’m capable of critical thought, and I refuse to let initial failures dictate future actions. I am excited to be living on my own, on a new coast, with new people and bagels and snow. Just think! Actual New York weather!

Just trying to be a half-full girl in a sea of empty glasses. I think that’s the best I can give you.