The other day, out of curiosity, I logged into my old Twitter account that I used freshman year of college.
I suppose by regular standards, my account isn’t particularly “old,” since I utilized it last year, yet I feel like I change so frequently that even my journal entries from last week are old news.
Scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through my tweets (illustrating a definite addiction to those 140 little characters), I had the strangest feeling that I was reading the tweets of a sweet and happy friend, or an optimistic mentor, rather than reading tweets of my own creation. I spoke to the world (in concise, twitterlike fashion) about the importance of attitude, the joys of Mondays, and the sweetness of random rainstorms. I rewind in my mind to this morning, trudging back to my apartment from class in the sticky heat and pouring rain—did I find that joyful? I used to.
I used to unearth the sweet and simple joys of life around me. I used to actively search for the good in chaos and conflict and confrontation, rather than quickly surrendering and moping. I used to smile a lot. I used to laugh so loudly that I would surprise others around me with my zeal and lightheartedness. I used to be adventurous and determined to live a life of “oh well’s” than “what if’s.” I want to return to this genuine, optimistic me. I miss my happy heart and light, cheerful attitude. I miss my sweetness that somehow has given way to extreme anxiety and stress that is often coupled with sophomore year (they call it the "sophomore slump").