Being in college is a very unique experience. At no other point in your life will it be acceptable for you to be throwing murder mystery parties one night, studying the entire next day, and then two weeks later spend days at a time doing absolutely nothing productive. At no other point in your life can you truly redefine the person you are; from this point forward who you are will constantly follow you. At no other point is it considered practically a right of passage to spend weeks or months galavanting across this country or other countries for no other reason except to experience life. This is the time to live as much life, check off as many of those bucket list things as you possibly can.
And yet, college is also one of the most difficult experiences to go through. Half the world sees you as an adult and the other half still sees you as a kid. You yearn for independence, but you spend nights sobbing into a pillow, your heart full of homesickness. Suddenly, it is difficult to love because expressing your love for someone now comes with all kinds of expectations and the very real possibility that the boy sitting on the couch next to you laughing at Toy Story 3 could be your husband sometime in the next three or four or five years. You realize that a lot of the friendships you've prized weren't all that great, that everything you thought you knew about yourself may not be true, and that those dreams of yours are going to either come true or be crushed in the very near future.
Tonight, I am lying in bed in an empty house right off campus. It's spring break, and I am here because I have to work in the morning. A little while ago I found myself thinking how much I wished that every part of my life would just intertwine for me so I could have everything that makes me happy all in one place at one time. Then I realized, though, that that isn't how life is... especially right now. There's a saying, "home is where the heart is," but the problem is that in college your heart is in two places, and you have two homes. There's the home where your family is, where you grew into a human being, and then there's the home you've made for yourself at school with your friends, where you are continuously growing as a human being.
My two homes, my two lives feel very separate a lot of the time. I come to school, and I know that being a student has to be my first priority. My friends inspire me to live and be loud and crazy and have fun whenever we can make the time. Then I have nights like tonight, where I long for my summer at home and running my own theatre camp and directing my own show, where everyone expects me to be responsible and to have all the answers, and I live up to those expectations. I want to be both of those people. I need to be both of those people. So, maybe right now, compartmentalizing my life isn't such a bad thing. Maybe having two separate lives is what I need.
But I guess it isn't really two separate lives. It's one life. My life. It's all a part of who I am, but I think I've reached an important place: realizing that I cannot be everything to everyone at one time. You have to make choices. You have to decide which one of those lights in you needs to shine the brightest at any given time. That's why I've come to think that most personality profile quizzes are entirely useless. To say that I fit just one label, or even to say that the majority of the time I fit in one category is pointless. I am a dynamic person, and I think that that makes life far more interesting and manageable and beautiful.
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