Just two years ago I was a wild-eyed college freshman. I was living in a dream world filled with big ideas and notions of impending greatness that simply being on campus would provide. I expected to one day get better at biology without studying and I believed that everyone's intentions with me were honorable. I made an impressionable first friend who has now moved away; we used to share pizzas and read each others' journals, trade music, and talk about our pseudo-wisdom gained in our short time at the university. We wore scarves and carried journals. We were intrepid.
I fell entirely too quickly in and out of a non-relationship with an older, sophisticated individual who oozed passion out of every pore. He scared me with his intelligence and so-called wisdom. I wanted him to think me passionate too.
After combining excess with excess, my world fell apart. The pieces were quickly picked up and mended as the world began expressing its true light to me. I started a job that I knew I would hate to pay for tuition and to leave behind a toxic work environment that introduced me to a side of myself I didn't very much like. I was seemingly happy for a year and a half until he did the one thing he said he'd never do: break my heart.
So much for promises.
Now I enter my second half of college with a new perspective. I have seen all I need to see to make it out on the other side with a diploma relatively unscathed. I'm not entirely the person I wish to be but I am more conscious of my actions than before. I don't particularly view the world in rose-colored shades anymore but I still have faith in moments that can make the world stop for a moment. I still believe in the revealing powers of conversation and a sidelong glance that keeps you guessing.
And I still believe in scarves.