Sleep? Come back tomorrow.

It's one of those nights.

The butterflies before your first day of a new life phase.
The excitement of leaving for a long-awaited trip.
The anxiety that comes with thinking your packed suitcase must be missing essentials.
The nausea-inducing fear when you realize you've done something wrong yet you have no idea what.
The complete stomach drop when you wake up and realize you're already late.
The heart wrenching clammy feeling after you've opened your heart and soul to someone and you have nothing but silent hours to sit alone and wonder if you made a horrible mistake.
The guilty pit when you realize you can't please everyone.
The tear-fighting, knot in your throat stress felt when you have something to say but no one to tell.
The freeing joy that comes when you realize that you are not alone.
The warm security felt once you understand that they feel the same way too.

In reality I am not feeling any of these things, but I could think of no other way to describe how I feel. So utterly lost and confused and overwhelmed yet happy and secure and so completely overjoyed and satisfied that I don't even know how to handle it.

It's just one of those times in life where I know things are changing, and my body's natural defense is to pull out every single feeling that I have ever associated with change or big events.

And so I know two things for sure: I will not sleep well tonight, and I need my roommates. No one else is capable of listening and understanding quite as well as them.

Curse you, Christmas break.