This morning I woke up, pushed aside my curtains and opened my window, and watched five straight hours of Netflix, only breaking for a breakfast of clam chowder and a lunch of banana pancakes. Yes, you read that right.
I deserve it. I have a list of little things I need to do (like mail back my textbooks and buy a summer bus pass) but I’m putting them off because I can. I can because the semester is over, and I’m taking the time to breathe out a massive sigh of relief.
This semester has been hard. Nine group projects, three jobs, countless days where I spent 10 or 12 or 14 hours on campus. I don’t think I’ve shed more tears in one four-month period than I did this semester.
But I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much either, or made as many amazing friends, or felt as proud of myself, or learned as much as I did since January.
I learned the power of taking a day off. I learned that it’s not a bad thing to feel my feelings. I learned that I am capable of pretty much anything.
It was hard, but I survived. And I’d do it all over again if I could.