For the first time in my 22 years, I just experienced a ‘just f**k it’ moment. Not the kind where I sit there looking in the mirror telling myself to fake it till I make it—a 100 percent, honest to goodness moment where I thought, “f**k everyone, I can do it, I can make it through.” And, to be honest, it felt really freaking good.

I should be sitting here typing up the 100-page thesis that’s due in five weeks, but since my advisor emailed me yesterday to tell me my topic was too vague, informing me we needed an emergency meeting, I figure there is little to be done on that at the moment. Instead, I want to capture the feelings of the minute I just stopped caring—not about how I do in school, or in life; but about how people look at me. I wish I could say this revelation cured me of that awareness entirely, but alas, I fear my insecurities are still my insecurities. But for the first time in the longest period I can remember, I don’t want to let other people’s emotions and thoughts and actions control me.

The past four years have been hard—I go to an Ivy League school, and yes it is amazing. I feel truly honored to have been admitted and given the amazing opportunities a Princeton education and endowment have afforded me. And it has also been the most stressful and emotionally draining four years of my life. They (who is they anyway? I would love to sit down and talk with them) say getting in is the hard part, staying in is easy. Well, that is true. Staying in is very easy, Princeton does not want anyone to drop out, or even suffer. Staying in with your head above water is entirely different, however. To look around and know that everyone around you is a valedictorian, an Olympian, or an actor, and that next year they will be on Wall Street, in the Olympics, or on Broadway is simultaneously thrilling and oppressing. On one hand, someone, somewhere, thought I belonged here and that feels awesome. On the other, should I be holding myself to the same standards as the people I see around me? Because I don’t compare. To be frank, I have gotten over the emptiness and fear of thinking they made a mistake. Princeton admissions does not make mistakes. I have loved my time here and I have done okay; it’s just been harder than anyone could have ever prepared me for. And nothing worth it is easy, I’m sure someone has said that before. I also truly believe that. It is just scary to look at yourself in the mirror and know you are worth Princeton, but think you are not.

The past 12 months have been hard—between spending the summer away from my family for the first time ever, experiencing the passing of a grandmother I was very close with, and beginning my senior year of college, I knew it was going to be an emotional roller coaster of a time. This year has been filled with firsts and lasts. My first trip to a psychologist (last spring), and my last first day of school (September). My first A+ at Princeton (December), and my last trip to Florida with my team (November). Clearly, it would be pointless to continue along that track because it is endless—and why should I dwell on it anyway? Every single year of life is filled to the brim with firsts and lasts. But this one is my last chance to be a kid. To live under the umbrella of Princeton’s safety where my professors, advisors, coaches, and parents all ultimately decide my direction, despite my ‘being an adult.’ And I welcome adulthood! I am looking forward to being on my own and being my own person, on terms that I choose to define. But being excited does make it any easier to swallow, knowing each step along the way is another last.

The past four weeks have been hard—I retired from a sport I have been competing in for 16 years. From age 5 until Feb. 20, 2016 (my 22nd birthday), I was a swimmer. And now I am not. An overwhelming part of my identity was founded in the pool, swimming laps up and down a black line to get the fastest time possible. Peace found in the silence of the water, pain found in the practices and races, frustration found in the amazing ability for practices to take four hours in two hour periods of time, and the immense pride found in being on teams striving for excellence. It is impossible to put into words what it means to no longer be the one thing that has defined my success in athletics, the label that got me into Princeton. The simplicity in saying, I am no longer a swimmer is frightening. The problem is, I don’t know how to fill the gap in the sentence, I am a _______.

Yesterday was hard—my best friend in the whole world hurt me deeply. Not intentionally, which almost made it worse. After a period of silence due to a rumor spread, we finally talked yesterday. He yelled, I yelled, and neither of us wanted to budge form being right. Until I figured our friendship was worth it—so after evaluating the severity of the fight, and the level of my own irrationality, I apologized. Truly, it was stupid—I was much more upset at that person that spread the rumor, than him. So I deeply and truly apologized, but allowed him to know I still felt my feelings and fears were valid, I needed him to be there for me. After turning the fight so the blame lay entirely on me, he took my apology with a “lol no worries.” And he has no idea how much that hurt. The one person who knows me, my feelings, and my fears ended a disagreement with me wallowing in guilt and self-doubt.

Tomorrow is going to be easy—Princeton will be over in three months, and I will have made it through as a Princeton graduate in the class of 2016. My family will all be there to celebrate my success, and then I will move down to North Carolina for another summer with them coming down to visit multiple times. I will never be a swimmer again, but I can be a swimmer whenever I want. And I may feel simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed by people in my life, but I have friends who will never let me go, even if they let me down. Life is hard, so just f**k it. All of the elements that have made the past four years, 12 months, four weeks, day, so difficult are simple. They are life. That blank space a few paragraphs up: I am a ­­­­­­­________, is absolutely terrifying. But I can now put whatever word I want in there. It is empty for now, but not forever. As a student athlete at an elite institution with the support of family, faculty, and friends, I feel like I have little to complain about. But there are issues that come with identity that no one sees, and for the first time, f**k them. Like I said before, my insecurities are still my insecurities. There are still things I love, dislike, and hate when I look in the mirror; cathartically writing 1,000 words does not change that. But for the first time in at least eight years I feel a little bit lighter. Not light, but lighter. And sometimes sitting in an empty room in the biggest library on campus, staring at your computer, screaming “F**K IT” over and over in your mind is the first step to control.