As some of you may know, I’ve (yet again) transferred schools. I’m back at the school I originally started at in Wisconsin, and I’m back to being an English major.

Today, after two weeks back, the realization truly hit me that I’m finally in the right place, in the right field, and in the right program. It’s only taken me four long, expensive, transient ears to realize this, but that’s much less than most people, and I feel blessed to have come to this realization so soon in the grand scheme of things.

In reading an essay by George Orwell titled “Why I Write,” I realized something else fantastic: that man, who wrote as if he were speaking not only of his own life and his own soul, but of mine as well, is my peer. Not only that, but secretly, I like to imagine him as a sort of secret soulmate. I share so many of his views and theories that I feel as if I know him and he knows me better than so many other people. Maybe that’s silly, but I can’t be made to care. It’s really kind of a glorious feeling, and I plan to hold onto it.

It’s nice feeling like finally, I know who I am, unequivocally.

I am a writer.

I am an English major.

I belong here.