To the age of 23.

Feeling lost and hopeless in D.C., that’s how most of us feel from time to time. Whether or not we’re from the city and without our reliable friendships, whether or not we like or hate our jobs, whether or not we believe that we will change the world, whether or not we believe that we have a purpose.

In the past two years, I may have become the only person who is actually depressed in the spring. I used to be refreshed by the sun and the people around me, but the scenes of winter, looking in at people in restaurants while bundled up and rushing through the streets for some reason felt more accurate about life. The truth is that spring is a time of rebirth and refreshing, but what am I remaking myself into? Haven’t I been doing this for however long I’ve been conscious, and as it turns out I am still who I am. I can’t escape myself.

We don’t remake ourselves in moments and instances and flashes of light. We get remade over time. But that process depends entirely on memory. And what’s its worth if our memories are so fragile to our own biases? Is remaking ourselves only a fiction that we create for ourselves? Then again our friends can see changes in ourselves, and I have seen friends change over time, who swing to someone unrecognizable before returning to someone I know and like. It’s as if they have to swing to some extreme and then they reinvent the middle and negotiate back to that place. But that begs the question, are we always in extremes? When are we in the middles again?

Being 23, it’s also strange to know what we’re aspiring to. Middle class? If you’re raised middle class, that’s where you assume that you’ll be. Wealth? Respect? Power?

Happiness?

But do any of us really ever know what happiness is? No. We’re taught this again and again. We know that the more we focus on happiness, the less happy we can be. So how do we end up happy? Do we find things to strive for and in those spare moments is that when we become joyous at the relief?

Our parents raised us telling us what would make us happy… and more importantly, what wouldn’t. Wealth won’t make you happy. Work won’t make you happy. The truth is though that doing nothing doesn’t make me happy. Neither does being poor.

I also know, however, that I haven’t been happy in awhile. I feel lost in the expectations and regularity and the ambiguity of finally doing it for myself.