What does it mean to sit quietly while someone else determines the course of your life?

I used to think purity meant perfection; now I think it just means trying to come back.

A reflection on grades, weight, likes, and the terrifying human instinct to turn numbers into identity.

I’m January when I’m thinking of grad school programs despite not even being half-way through my bachelor’s, and I’m February when I enjoy the slightly stuffy lecture hall, soaking in the professor’s words like a sponge.