It's A Wonderful Life

Somehow, somewhere, I got a burst of life. I feel as though I’ve been holding my breath for a very long time, and slowly suffocating. Asphyxiated. Sequestered. Disconsolate. But that’s all gone (most of the time). I’m alive and well—very well. I’m happy.

Lately I’ve learned a lot about how I see myself and the world around me. I decided after only one week of this semester’s classes, after fighting so hard to get my double major approved, I had made a wrong choice about sticking around in Provo for classes I “didn’t need.” I didn’t feel cut out to be an English major—I don’t wear red tights with a yellow cardigan; I haven’t grown up reading Pride and Prejudice; I don’t want to write another paper. But I was wrong about being wrong. It is so right for me to be here. And I AM an English major—and a DARN GOOD ONE too. I am so happy to be me. I’m improving. I’m learning. I’m loving. I’m living.