A letter from April 5th, 2015

Remember that you haven't been happy for a long time. Remember that everyone always looks happier in old photographs. Remember that even in Spain there were bad moments. (Remember that even a year later, you're romanticizing Spain.) Hopefully this letter doesn't depress you. I think of it more as a reminder that it's okay to be unhappy. Here is a list of bad times during Spain, which looking back seemed like the best month of your life. 1) The uncertainty of Mitch and his inability to show feelings. 2) The week of strep and the scariness when you couldn't communicate. 3) The disappointment in the selfishness of people, even those that you loved there. 4) The food. 5) The loneliness in Madrid. Realizing that to travel alone is going to be one of the greatest challenges of your life. 6) Even meeting new people is going to be one of those great challenges. 7) The constant need to act more experienced than you are. 8) The classes. lol. You sucked at those. Now, the good times: 1) The sun and the weather and the enjoyment of just sitting outside. 2) Finding that little bench (did it exist?) and the abandoned work cottage and loving it and then getting to share it with Mitch. 3) The new experiences: getting drunk with strangers, staying in a hostel, ignoring the status quo in Portugal, cliff jumping, sharing a hotel room with a guy, and learning to chill. 4) La noche de San Juan. Incredible. 5) I think I grew up a lot. Some people spend an entire semester abroad the same way I spent those five weeks. Other people spend their whole college career like that. In some ways, I envy those people. I envy their carefree time, their joy in exploration, their ability to spend so long drunk. But, I must first remember that it is not entirely carefree. It looks much better from the outside. And second, I must remember that it's not what I want. I want it for those five weeks. I'm grateful I got to have it for those five weeks (and hopefully choice moments throughout the next several years). But I can't do it for a semester. It's not who I am. I'm much too serious and I care much too much. My life isn't going to be easy and it's not always going to be the most enjoyable. But it's going to be worthy. It's going to be something that I'm proud of. I think that I will find a much deeper commitment in a life that is hard, but ultimately good, than I will find in fleeting moments of enjoyment that leave no trace. At least I hope so--that's what I'm banking everything on. I'm sending this to a random date in the future, but after graduation I think. You'll need it during your volunteer years; they might be rough.