Kelli Cullinane

I am finally finding happiness in my daily life again.

I finally feel happy again.

But more than I’d like to admit, the start of sophomore year was way more difficult than I would have ever pictured. The school year became sleepless nights and a yearning for my own time again; it was marked by tired eyes and too many energy drinks. All of a sudden, I was lit up by the glow of my calendar on my computer screen and the satisfaction of falling asleep as soon as I closed my eyes.

The weather hasn’t changed much since July, but the absence of summer’s freedom brings an overwhelming feeling of falling that comes with school starting. I don’t think I was prepared for the sensation of grabbing onto a ledge that wasn’t there, rapidly sliding down a cliff with no end. 

The concept of happiness always took a backseat in my mind. I consistently prioritize my academics, athletics, and other people over the feeling of simple joy or happiness. But what is the point of any of that if I move through the motions, a ghost within my own mind that’s filled with homework and plans and schedules and how much sleep I got and my family and friends? 

But I finally feel happy again.

Now, the pieces of my life are coming together in an amalgamation of pumpkin spice, control, and new friendships. I might have it all together. I’m hopeful for the future, rather than dreading the next task on my list. I feel optimistic, something far out of the typical realm of my personality, and I’m looking forward to living life again. 

And I love living life. I love discovering new movies and songs, reading books, playing sports, and meeting new people. I love the things I’m intensely passionate about. I love the people I’ve surrounded myself with. 

Still, this new feeling of optimism and wishful thinking is shadowed by fear. Why is my life defined by the highs and lows? I can’t do anything halfway, which is perhaps a mark of a deeply feeling personality or an indicator of being overly emotional. But it’s clear that I let small things dominate my life every day. So, although I finally feel content with this new routine, questions linger underneath my happiness. 

What happens next time I feel like I’m falling? I know I can’t always allow every second to be controlled by a volatile spiral of my emotions that day, or week, or month, but I still do, and I might always.