Two AM and here I lay, blanket and comforter shielding me from the fan-induced breeze blowing gently above me. I can’t seem to calm my mind, prevent the endless parade of disjointed logic which keeps me from rest, as if we weren’t meant to unite.

This year has been different, three months have gone by and yet I find myself faced with the sort of thoughts that could only creep up on you, slithering slowly under the sheer gravity of unbridled possibility. Needs, family, health, happiness, duty, deference, priority, time - they occupy the mental real estate previously reserved for what now resembles stability by way of unopened eyes.

It would neither be fair nor accurate to describe my life as anything short of perpetual positivity, peppered with lows no more frequent or taxing than those of others. But as I turn from side to side, subject to subject, I can’t help but wonder if this is truly the path that I’m supposed to be on, the path which down the road assuages any previously plaguing qualms. I realize that only hindsight can provide this sort of guarantee, but that doesn’t seem to make me want it any less.

Likewise the ever permanent presence of life’s pinnacles and troughs fail to keep me from staring up from down below. Perhaps this staring is beneficial, an uplifting sign of the aberrational nature of my current state. I sure hope so.

There’s something to be said for family, for home, for the existence of a place where it all comes together. I’m not quite sure how to assign words to my current state, but nonetheless here I am. There’s a Russian movie called Make It ‘Til Monday that offers the mantra much better than I ever will - the movie asserts, as its overarching theme, that happiness is being understood.

There are, and always will be, those in our lives who offer unmeasurable positivity, intrigue, and sanctity. They provide unparalleled uplift where life has lowered all visible manifestations of hope, and much needed support where circumstance has abandoned any earthly form of buttress. But those qualities alone, despite being integral strands in the tapestry of situations that face us all, fail to form a holistic picture of what is truly required. This diversity of friendship, even in small quantities and regardless of form, provides a valuable (and indeed much needed) element of growth, helping create mutual understanding, tolerance, and stability. But diversity alone rarely suffices, lacking the sort of fundamental comfort that I seem to be devoid of these days.

Family seems to fill this void more and more these days, and as time goes on I find myself growing closer and closer to the people who made me who I am today. With the continuous bewilderment of those around me, I continue to talk to my family several times a day, if only to say hello. Words doubtfully do justice to how truly important this element of my life actually is, but I pale at the thought of life without it.

It is therefore that I find myself in a newfound state for the last several days, missing my parents as they travel around Europe for the first time without me. Despite being the foremost advocate of this vacation (it was much needed and I’m glad they went), I can’t help but feel a bit down. Call it separation anxiety, call it an inability to “cut the cord.” I just call it missing the ones I love.