I wrote the following near the end of my freshman September, when my lucidity and general sense of well-being were about on par with where they are now:
"Somehow it feels like I haven't yet 'taken ownership' of my place here. I can't even speak of there being 'my' place yet, because no one place, social or locational, truly belongs to me yet. Perhaps it's because I don't 'own' anyone, per se, on campus yet. (Always with the 'yet'—what am I waiting for? But perhaps it's not so simple, even, as waiting for something—although I get the feeling that something, anything, some undefined event must happen before I can open myself up to this place, give myself to a location again like I did before.) There is no one's time that I can tug upon, no one's will that I can bend, however so slightly, to pull that person to my dimension, and that seems to bespeak a lack of importance here."

You notice how I suddenly got comfortable this year? That's important. I think I've finally found that niche I spoke of freshman year, and it's done wonders for my confidence. I held this place in abeyance for so long...

But yeah. I have the paper now. I have good friends.

I have a place here.

It feels good.

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