I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I've been hoping for better days when really, my days were never all that bad to begin with. You know those days where everything is fine but you just feel sad for no reason? Those days where your body feels so heavy and the world spins just a bit too fast?

I lift my sighing eyes from my worn-out feet and take in what's around me. I see people. They all look so busy--all trying to get somewhere, meet someone, do something. They move so quickly and competitively, don't they? I see two of them meet in front of the coffee shop next to the bus stop: one who feels like they are deserving of the down-time they are about to enjoy because they've just been elected secretary of some pre-professional club I didn't quite catch the name of, and the other who can smile easily knowing they are the more accomplished of the two--of most people. And as I sip the sweet coffee I decided to buy as an act of kindness towards myself, I know that I'm jealous of how purposefully they move. Because I know I haven't done enough, that it's too late to do enough, and that what I have done won't be enough.

But the day goes on.

And after my last class of the day, I'm ready to go back to my room, lay on my bed, and listen to the sad song I've been playing on repeat all day when I remember I made plans to get dinner with a friend. I kind of want to cancel. But then again, maybe it will be good to spend some time with someone other than myself. I make my way toward that same coffee shop next to the bus stop where she is waiting for me, and I greet each other in a hug--she's happy to see me because she knows there is no one who can fill her up with the kind of thoughtful conversation and genuine laughter that I can. And I can smile easily knowing that she is someone who appreciates everything I am just as much as I appreciate everything she is. And when I'm on the bus headed back home, I can't help but feel good, not necessarily about myself, but about where I am. I look out at the blurry orange glow of the cars heading in the opposite direction and can't help but think that the day was kind of okay: my roommate left a piece of chocolate on my desk this morning because she knows how stressed I've been lately, I did well on my in-class essay, Mom and Dad called to say "hi" and remind me that they're proud of me, and I got to spend time with someone who reminds me what it feels like to feel important.

These days, I find myself being picked up by people I love and who I now believe love me just as much. And when I think about it, the most intense feeling of gratitude overwhelms me--I feel it in every bone in my body, and it shakes me to my very core until I have the sudden urge to cry. I think about how lucky I am to have these people in my life--how did I ever feel so alone? And at the end of the day, after I've closed my unfinished homework, brushed my teeth, and turned out the light, I can't help but want to love myself a little more.