Like waves finally settling after a storm, the light at the end of the tunnel, the quiet whisper of happiness and triumph. Most people assume that success is loud, that success is something that needs to be known and recognized by all that surround you.

But, what I have learned from the fast yet seemingly never-ending lead-up to my last semester of high school is that success is not something that hits you in the face when you least expect it, but rather an idea that tiptoes behind you so quietly you question if it’s real. However, right as doubt starts to impend, it gently taps you on the shoulder for reassurance of its presents. 

Sure, there are certain moments that are loud enough that I can look back on them and decipher them from the other hundreds of similar occurrences, and I can identify them as a shift in my success. However, for the most part, the things I have accomplished came with time. 

I followed a map that I just assumed was never ending to lead me to this exact time in my life. And, now that I am here, I find myself floating through life and just past the map I’ve so loyally followed for the past 17 years. I’ve run out of clear-cut instructions, because the next chapter of my life has yet to be determined for me. 

Making it to this point in general is an accomplishment in itself. We all put in the work to be here: the nights that turn into mornings way too fast, the tears that surge after looking at a math test and realizing you don’t know anything, and the morning rush to put together a functional outfit after oversleeping for the third time that month. All these experiences, though technically unique from person to person, all have one thing in common—it was moments like these that got us here. 

The average moments of life, the repetition of our classes, the weekly stories we had due, and the little, arguably boring, and repetitive times that are going to stick with us most. It’s not often that my wandering brain is able to live in the moment. It’s a concept I so desperately chase after but can never quite catch. 

However, on occasion, it’s right at the tips of my fingers, and for that second, sitting in class, waking up in the morning, sitting on the TCT couch, I can feel the moment as it appears in that second. I can feel the success that got me here, and I thrive in the seconds that have been so consistent because I know in a few short months, I won’t have them anymore.