Today, I woke up early (earlier than usual) and stretched. I washed my face and did my skincare. I curled my eyelashes and put on mascara. I got dressed and put on an outfit that I felt both good and comfortable in. I considered today my January 1st—a day to restart my life. I had lunch with my Communications & Design team (Arden & Sam!) and went to my first class: Intermediate Economics. I strolled up to Rosenkranz for my Political Science discussion section while listening to The Beatles’ While My Guitar Gently Weeps. In section, I received a call that I rejected, and got a follow-up, tempting text, from my friend Andy:

Forty-five minutes later, I was on the next train to New York.

I saw my first-ever concert this year (Clairo!) and discovered my love for live music. There’s a certain feeling of camaraderie amid sweaty backs and crowded stadiums. I felt a bit of FOMO when my friends went to the SWEAT tours in NYC and Boston respectively, but I am a strong believer in the fact that all good things flow my way so I don’t think I missed out.

Andy and I ran four blocks from Grand Central to Times Square. We arrived four minutes late, and Charli had already started performing. The concert lasted eleven minutes, and we spent two hours getting there. We could only see Charli on the big screen, but that was okay. I don’t think we got our money’s worth, but I had fun. I hate running, but I like having company. I think I understand runner’s high now. I felt drained afterward, but I had a sudden itch to write.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the idea of fulfillment because I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that definition meant. The Oxford Dictionary defines it as “the achievement of something desired, promised, or predicted, satisfaction or happiness as a result of fully developing one's abilities or character, or the meeting of a requirement or condition.” Based on these three similar descriptions, I satisfied the criteria for fulfillment. I think I did, I’m not sure. Perhaps I hadn’t fully developed my character; therefore I didn’t feel satisfied or happy, and thus, I was not fulfilled. Yes, that must’ve been it. Maybe not.

Whatever the case may be, I’m writing this essay on the train back and I feel…fulfilled. I was told that Charli XCX would be in Times Square and I saw her perform. I “achieved something promised.” Yet even that answer feels too simplified. I’m not sure if I’m breaking conventional English structures (sorry to any English majors and writers), but I’m going to take the definitions of ‘fulfillment’ and string together the parts I believe define fulfillment. Yes, I will do that.

Fulfillment, to me, defined by me, for me, and anyone else who feels it applies, is leading a life worth living. It’s the short-lived moments of happiness and the sitting outside and spending way too long chatting while gazing at the moon. It’s the sense of peace that comes when you practice self-love and the process of taking necessary steps towards your goal. And it’s the ability to take a break to appreciate the little things in life.

Perhaps the solution isn’t that simple, but for now, I’ll grab onto those fleeting moments and revel in the fact that people truly make up so much of my world and I’m not sure what I would do without them.

Before you all get concerned, I finished most of my work on the train AND did my Duolingo! Goodnight World 🌎🤖