I’ve come to a point in my life where I’ve achieved my sta­bil­ity. That’s not to say that it won’t dis­ap­pear once a new sit­u­a­tion arises, but it seems that my loss of bal­ance has given me prac­tice in regain­ing it.

The future seems so uncer­tain. I don’t have a room­mate for the sum­mer, and I don’t even know if I need one. Everyone is talk­ing about mov­ing in with each other, but none of our leases end on the same month. I might not be grad­u­at­ing in a month if I fail any courses, a very dis­tinct pos­si­bil­ity. That means that my grad­u­a­tion cer­e­mony would be delayed, and I would need to reg­is­ter for a sum­mer semes­ter. I don’t even give a shit about the grad­u­a­tion cer­e­mony, but it’s not like I would be going for myself. I don’t even have a job lined up any time soon, some­thing which I am des­per­ately in need/want of.

Yet in the face of such uncer­tainty, I have been able to remain rel­a­tively sta­ble. I’m not sure why this is. Possibly, the taste of good liv­ing I had last sum­mer has cre­ated a kind of hope in me, a hope with no-strings-attached.

What an odd turn of events, that hav­ing a con­tent sit­u­a­tion (and even los­ing it) has made me “hap­pier”. I won­der if it’s just a phase, that I’m still rid­ing off a store of emo­tions, and that once the store in drained, I’ll become a bit­ter per­son. Somehow I doubt it, but one can never tell.

I can now safely say that I am a bet­ter per­son, although if his­tory has taught me any­thing, it’s that any­thing can change.

And yet there is still a wish for change.