Dear sophomore year,

You almost killed me. For a while there, it seemed like you were really trying to. You threw so much at me, and there were times that it seemed every aspect of my life was falling apart. You really tried to break me down. You attacked my confidence, my expectations, and my stability. You tried to kill me, and you almost did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you made learn. You made me grow. You made me stronger.

The way I see it, sophomore year is hard for everyone. Academically, it is (hopefully) more difficult than freshman year. Friendship-wise, it’s a pain. You’re already involved on campus so it’s even busier. From my understanding, these things don’t get better as college progresses.

Coming back to school was such an exciting thing. I had so many expectations for my sophomore year, it was going to be the best yet. I’m not saying it was the worst yet, but it was the hardest school-year of my life. Why? All my expectations shattered.

I expected to have these amazing friendships from freshman year carry over to sophomore year. A few did, but a lot didn’t. People changed, moved away, grew apart. It was incredibly sad.

I expected to be better at time management and my schoolwork because I knew what to expect from college courses. I started into classes for my majors and was rudely woken up from this misconception. Once major courses start, it’s easy to discover that what you thought you wanted to do is not actually what you want to do. Cue an identity crisis.

I expected to not get homesick anymore. Unfortunately for me, a lot happened at home throughout the course of the year, and I found myself wishing I was there more often than not.

I expected to deal with less drama. Everyone matured and the drama would lessen accordingly, right? Nope. The drama was usually less petty, but it was frustrating and more intense all the same.

Ultimately, I expected this year to be easy. I expected to know what I was doing and where my life was going. Sophomore year, you reminded me that I have no idea what life holds. Through every trial you threw at me or at others I loved, I learned and grew. Sophomore year, you made stronger.

I don’t think next year will be easier; I’m no longer so naïve to think I might have a handle on what’s going to happen next. Optimistically, I don’t think it can be harder than this year. Realistically, I don’t think I can really know that for sure. Regardless, I feel better-prepared for next year, senior year, and beyond. I’m stronger now.

So thank you, sophomore year for being the hardest year of my life. You tried to kill me, but made me wiser and stronger in the process.