I must keep telling myself that I have come a long way: last year at this time I was barely adjusting to college, barely confident of my independence, barely understanding how I fit into the world as a citizen and a human. I knew nothing, came as a blank canvas, and expected life to paint me.

I should not be disappointed that this summer did not unfold neatly. Messiness is expected.

Sometimes I just want someone to hug me and tell me to stop worrying.