I’m sitting at my desk right now in my chaotically organized yet still zen-providing pretty space of a room. My hair’s outrageous and I still haven’t taken my scarf off from outside. My left contact is itching and my neck’s regained probably about half of its normal tension already.
But I’m so, so happy.
Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know if I could tell you without gushing about twelve hundred different probable causes. Nothing spectacular has happened (except I have a GREAT second semester schedule, minus the fact that I don’t have any River Campus classes… which is a bummer). I haven’t lost a ton of weight or anything. My sock has a hole in it (I’ve just discovered).
But I am so happy.
Maybe it’s the sunshine. Maybe it’s the sparkling white curtain of snow I walk out in at 830 every morning. Maybe it’s the morning time I currently enjoy; maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s that I’m finally reconnecting with the self I lost in the shuffle of a new time.
I don’t know. But I’m happy.