One of the things a teacher said to me that changed my life, at least the way I understood it, was that "there's a delicate balance between showing vulnerability and imposition".[^1] In that spirit, year reflections are a tricky piece of writing. Here's, I suppose, my self-perception of where I'm at now, and how that's changed. ### as of now Nearer to *the start* section of this year, Jordan Guilford stopped me before I was about to start my workout. Trembling, I thought I was in trouble for not moving enough weight or working out inefficiently or something. Instead, he asked me how in touch with my soul I felt. I had never been asked a question remotely close to that. My soul was now the one shaken. *clairvoyance* Some of the people I most admire are older, meaning they've had more time to do the reflection, to lean more into the extroversion I simultaneously gravitate towards and wish I had a little more of. I know I ought to trust time — I found it harder to socialise when I was 14 than 18 — but higher expectations tend to drag results behind them. That's one piece. *the crossing* A favourite quote of any respectable self-improvement guru is that discipline is the bridge between the person you want to become and who you are today. That helps with the crossing, but what about the destination? At this stage, the person I want to become is, truthfully, quite amorphous. The picture is clear(er) on certain points that can be nailed down in the physical world, but it blurs quickly on the more ephemeral. What does being kind, or knowledgeable, or any other good trait I can imagine actually manifest as? I don't think progress — internal progress, to be exact — can be couched in Notion vision boards or external appearances. I could write more about appearances as they pertain to me — I think having opportunities on a gap year & where I come from & also who my friends are all mean external appearances are much more disconnected from internal progress than usual — but perhaps that's something for internal journalling rather than external writing (haha, see what I did there?). *the current* I've always been a very emotional person. When I was younger, I was as quick to cry as I was to yell. Emotions use to rule every fibre of my being, which was sustainable, because there was always someone close who could help do the rational thinking. I wouldn't say my emotional nature has changed, or there was an inciting incident that suppressed all emotions. I've only noticed now, looking back, on how many missed trains, financial setbacks, and cancelled lodging plans have triggered calm rationality instead of fear or panic; the obvious explanation being I'm now alone. Of course, my habit of booking everything last minute has created more of these situations than typical & recommended & necessary. Usually, some combination of a quick smile, sheepish honesty, and a credit card have been sufficient response (the first two may be swapped out for the kindness of others & pity — I know which is the truth, but my ego demands this version). My parents have commented on my booking habits and subsequent emotional response with both pride (you've matured a lot!) and disdain (why, Randy, did we just get fined for not having tickets [^2]). I'm not even sure if pride is well-placed. This may be cynical, but truthfully, the pressure you face on a gap year has a lot more breathing room than the pressure of formal institutions. Miss a train, there's usually an alternate itinerary. Miss a deadline, good luck. Unfortunately, my guess is that most challenges will model the latter rather than the former, meaning staying calm and charming one's way out of situations might not work as well as it has so far. *fear not* I began this section writing about my soul, and I've spent much of it describing how I feel lost. Based on what I've gained from the past (which you are about to read), I'm not too worried. Life nowadays feels more like a forward motion than a set of walls to run into. Thought has been in leaps instead of shuffles, reflection now chooses to march instead of crawl. I'm fairly confident I'd find where I'm going now had I chosen to go straight to college. I'm not sure what pace that would have arrived. Slower, and more comfortable, is my guess. I hope, Coach Guilford, that helps answer your question vis-a-vis my soul. ### the midsection *others* High school at the end is a weird place. Time seems to accelerate in the last few months; schoolwork shifts from opportunity to a chore; exams are theoretically closer by day but inch like icebergs, barely moving until they're too close. Moments stay equally juvenile but somehow everyone becomes aware of their naive seductiveness — and of their fleeting nature — so suddenly these same moments form bonds that will carry further than youth, at least the youth believe so. *preparations for the crossing* This period's largest effect on me was that I had a lot of space to think, but this time it was a kind of natural, future-oriented thought process. There was no longer a survival or high-intensity element to it. I was left with infinite possibilities, and there wasn't a "best" option anymore. There were just many solid options, and I was left to choose. I suppose this time helped me process certain things that had been left unprocessed, but it was mainly responsible for a new sort of thinking, a kind that is a lot scarier. ### the start *what led to me being here* I rang in the new year by writing college essays. I had spent the past year and a half questioning why I wanted to study at the schools I did; on some level, I was trying to convince myself they were somehow less personally prominent or relevant than they were. The differing amount of care I put into each essay disproved this hypothesis — that I had somehow insulated myself from my past person's goals. The same day I got rejected from one scholarship I was interested in, I heard back from the Morehead, a program I would come to realise I was *very* interested in. The day after interviews, I had just come out of my counsellor's office after garrulously expressing how nervous I was[^3] when I learned a few other programs — ones I would have been overjoyed at in 2022 — were also realistic possibilities, a fact the appropriate levels of excitement struggled to rise for, as the nerves continued to suppress all other emotions from entry. In February, I got the Morehead at Raymond's house. I'm not certain how to describe this feeling — especially in a non perfunctory way, given I haven't gone through college yet — but what my instincts felt was that a safety net had been set up for the first time ever; that I was free to explore and figure things out; that whatever bad things arrived, things could be far, far worse; and that I had somehow stumbled onto a group, one which my past person never thought he would find when thinking through things. It's a little short-sighted, I agree, to write about the college application process as my defining event of 2023, especially the start. The way I would put it is that I had been thinking about quite a few things in the leadup; this process was the first time I would apply the semi-formed conclusions I reached. Hence, its relevance to my year. [^1]: I'm misquoting, by the graces of memory's fallibility and my comparatively inferior eloquence. I hope I've captured the original sentiment [^2]: Sorry again. [^3]: The only words I remember I said that held any significance were a "well, I think if by some miracle I get it, like, that's it, yknow" — and of course, my counsellor understood what I meant to say, because she is incredible with people & as a whole.