TWO STEPS FORWARD AND THREE STEPS BACK

Almost a year in college and we come down to this. Six pictures from my last day in my first year in college. Ten months of pure collegiate agony and bliss, both visible in every corner of my building. There's a million of moments I'd love to go back to, and another million I'd love to forget about. I still remember, from a few months back, how I dwelled so much on the itching fact that I am about to enter college; sweaty palms, seventeen years worth of so-not-ready neurons running crazy around my brain, and the massive amount of bodily fluids I greatly ignored because I didn't want to look like a lost person, frantically wiping her sweat off, searching for a companion. I wanted to be this independent snowflake who needs no one by her side to survive the impending horror of being a college student. 

I was wrong to think of it that way. I met new people and learned a great deal about them and I instantly called off my plan to ignore everyone. My friends have one of the most beautiful minds I've ever had the chance to hear ideas from, and I'm more than glad to be a part of that small group. I was a basket case the summer before school started, and I can definitely say that they did a great part on pulling me back up, with their small gestures of letting me know I'm a part of something greater than college and the summer I spent sulking around. 

When I was in my senior year in high school, I'd always zone out to the sound of my teachers discussing in front. I'd think about the year ahead of me, and the things I'd do once I enter college. I remember imagining the nights I'd wait for a bus to take me home, or walking around an unnamed university (because I was undecided of my future back then), and sitting on one of those benches preferably at the derelict part of the university because why not, right?  

It wasn't as dreamy and cinematic as what I expected it to be; it was an agonizing roller coaster of unwanted feelings and homework. But I had some ups, too. I spent a lot of time at the library, which was lovely because they have an impressive array of books (intentional nod at the Humanities section, thank you). I even had the chance to join a Journalism seminar for three days with my friends! There are a few of these moments I'd like to have photographic memories of, but everything seems memorable for me, good or shitty. From crying on the way home to the sound of my favorite sad song, to being a pure whack in Algebra. 

I am still bad at writing. I, if I'm being deadly honest, thought that I would become a better writer this year. But I'm stuck, and it makes me mad and extra sad with sad songs on the side. 

I've got nothing to give
Got no reason to live
But I will fight to survive
I've got nothing to hide
Wish I wasn't so shy

I fell in love with riding the train. I make mental notes everyday to leave the school at exactly 3:30 because the train isn't as crowded at this hour of the day. I found out that I am very fond of public transport, because looking out the windows as the train advances through a number of terminals will always be rewarding for my eyes. This also applies to all modes of transport, but taking the train always wins. 

Everyone deems their last day in something as this glorious event in their lives. Graduates, prisoners about to enjoy parole, employers about to quit their horrible jobs, etc. This one, with three years still void of anything, is a glorious beginning for me. I don't mind the extra shit storm I'm about to inhale for the next three years, as long as I am here. I thought a lot about transferring, but this place is more than enough. Missing everyone from around here is torturous--which is surprising because I never saw myself getting attached to people I used to have no acquaintance with. 

Ten months and we come down to six pictures, pretty enough to be here and to dwell upon.