It's always there, you just don't know it till a quarter to three.

I wrote this morning while I sat out on our screened in porch, and this is a little bit of what I wrote:

This morning as I sit out here, I am overcome by a feeling that I am not sure I have ever felt before. This morning, as I sit here on the 2521 side's porch, I am overcome with a sense of freedom. I feel light here. I feel like I can breathe the most air I've ever had in my lungs at any one time. I feel cozy and warm, but not too warm. I feel a subtle urgency in the air as I watch the cars speed by, but I am overcome with peace in the moments when the damp road is still. I feel alone. I feel alone, and I don't hate that. I feel free to sit here, existing in my current state no matter how immature and self absorbed that might really be. I don't want to live in this moment forever. I don't want to feel alone forever, but right now, this morning, there is no other place I'd like to be. This morning it's hard to hide from myself. I hope that I can hold on to that part of this feeling forever.

This is not the norm. There are things I've always loved about this place. I love this porch. I love N.C. State. I love campus and football games and wearing red. I really do love being a part of the wolfpack. I love Raleigh. I love how I've had the chance to get to know her over the past four years (yes, I think Raleigh is a girl). We haven't always loved each other, or I guess I haven't always loved her, but it seems that the more I get to know these streets, these places, these people, the more I have come to love and appreciate the beauty and comfort that Rals has to offer me. She's seen me through a lot.

I love the rose garden and the sidewalks that run through my neighborhood. I love the social work department at state - my teachers and classmates and classes. I love my roommates - I love them a lot. I've loved living in this house for three years. Three years. That's a long time. I complain about the chaos of living with seven girls. I complain about the mess, the dirty kitchen, the squirrel that lives in the attic and shuffles nuts next to my head while I'm trying to sleep. I complain about the mysterious and disgusting smell that penetrates just about every room of our house. Our basement floods (poor Amber). Our shower will not drain. Our fire alarms are constantly dying. Our dishwasher is broken. Our roof is literally falling off. I could go on and on and on about what is wrong with this house. I could and I have and if you ask any one of my roommates they will confirm that I do it often.

I complain a lot about the things I don't like about this place, but I would be lying if I said for even one second that I didn't love every bit of my experience here, in this place, with these girls. I cannot imagine college without this place, without these people. I can't imagine life without all of the things I have done here. I will probably continue to complain about the smell, but don't let me fool you. I am grateful for this house, for these girls, for the man with the long ponytail that walks his husky by our house every day. These things have brought me stability, they have brought me comfort, they have brought me light and community and they have taught me so many things.

I keep talking to people about this period of time being very bitter sweet, but this morning it feels only bitter. I am excited for life after this place, but right now, in this specific moment, I feel sad. It will be hard to let go of comfort and stability and routine, but so much more than that - it will be hard to let go of these people, because I love them. I love them a lot. I love it here. You wouldn't always know from the way that I talk about this place, but so much of me will miss so much of what makes up my life here.

I'm not sure what to do with that. I'm not sure how to move forward. I hate changing things. The thought of moving me and all of my stuff to a different city is terrifying. I'm stressed. I'm confused. I'm incapable of doing any of this properly, but I feel confident that I can at least be honest about all of these things. And I'm comfortable enough to sit here in that honesty, that stress, that terror, at least for a little while. I think that's a start. I think that's growth, or at least something that comes before growth.

There is something so sooting and precious about the cold and the rain. Sitting out here wrapped up in blankets, I am forced to feel the cold, but I am also forced to feel my own warmth. These blankets don't produce heat. If' I'm going to be warm today, it's going to be because all of the layers keep in my own heat. Today, I am reminded by the cold that I am not that. I am not cold. I am alive. Today, I am reminded what it feels like to be alive. Today, I am reminded how precious and valuable life is. Today, I feel challenged to live.