I’m sitting here at 1:30 in the morning looking back on what my life was like one year ago. The end of my senior year; a time when I couldn’t wait to get to college, but at the same time didn’t want to leave; the time I was in love; the time I was frustrated and happy and everything in between. Now I’m here, at a relatively early hour, drinking more Mt. Dew that I don’t need in my system; just here, reflecting on my first year in college.
I remember talking to a friend in October, asserting that I had not changed. And I think that even now, I’m fundamentally the same person: my political and religious views haven’t gone through this drastic revamp. I still love my family, and I still value honesty and kindness and beauty in everyone.
But still, I feel so different, so grown-up. At this time a year ago, being awake past midnight was unthinkable. I hated Mt. Dew. And I never thought I would be friends (or not be friends) with the people that I am friends with today.
Take for instance, a certain boy I often, no, always, referred to as my best friend. I still talk to him now, but things are so different. There’s no romance, and there’s not really much weirdness, either. It’s just friendly. And while several months ago I was completely devastated, today I just feel . . . content. I know I was in love with him, but I also know that now I’m not. I feel really over him. Not “these boots were made for walkin’” over him; just “well, that time has passed” over him. And part of me is still a little sad about it, but I can’t cry about it anymore. Trust me, I’ve tried.
I haven’t really cried since maybe January. And in my life before college, I was definitely a crier. I mean two/three times a week. But now? I can’t remember the last time I sat down and sobbed. I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing; it’s just the truth.
The girls that I am friends with really blow me away sometime. A lot of them (especially the ones at school) are definitely different than I am. That doesn’t really surprise me, but it’s just another change that I’ve noticed in myself. The ones from home are still the same, but that’s a really good thing- when your life changes, it’s so comforting to have something stable and familiar. I think that my friendship with “the girls” back home has just intensified; I find that when I talk to them, I always end up squealing at one point or another. I’ve never been that girly. I must confess that while I despised the phrase “my girls” on the outside (“Oh, they are SO fake!”), I secretly wished for a group of my own. I wanted to be a part of something. And now that I am, I couldn’t be happier. It’s true that I don’t tell all of them the intimate details of all of my life, but they’re the ones I make plans with when I go home. They’re the ones I plan birthday gifts for months in advance because I see something and say “That’s so I also think I changed so much this year in my view of myself. I used to see myself as an almost-chubby smart girl; a nerd, but a cool nerd. But now I could care less about my body. I mean, I don’t want to gain 40 pounds, but I feel so comfortable. I have no problem in prancing around the floor in my leggings that I bought in sixth grade. Wearing a jock strap over my pants is suddenly entertaining, not mortifying. And socks that don’t match my outfit have become my trademark. I can’t believe I ever thought I was fat. Not that I’m writing this to say “Look at me, I’m captain skinny!” It’s just that I want to assert how all of these negative body images that the media throws out are so not getting to me.
And the smart part? I’m not sure. I mean, I did come in first in the class, right? That means I must be smart . . . plus I got a 4.0 my first semester in college. I must be a sharp cookie! The thing is, I know that I can do well grade-wise. But I really do work hard. Last year I did a lot more work than other people; the fact that I took so many AP classes is THE reason I got first. The only reason. The fact that I read everything before lectures and that I stay at home on Fridays to catch on my work only further proves that I am a dork. I know so many people who do so much less yet still score better than I do on exams. I know that college is about learning outside the classroom and valuing knowledge and all of that, and while I think I’ve achieved that to some extent (hey, I’m writing this, aren’t I?), I really do put a value on the numerical grade I receive. I learn about life anyways, but that number is just something I think about; something I cherish when I do well. At college, I know people that don’t go to class and score higher than I do. Sometimes I feel so stupid around them, but that’s just part of life.
I’ve also realized that I don’t have a lot of standouts. Most people have a few things they’re really good at: “He can play the piano like an angel!” “You should see her- she’s so buff!” “What a dancer!” I don’t think there’s any one thing that I can point to and say “There. That’s my specialty.” But that’s not a bad thing, I guess. I just feel silly saying that I can do something because there’s no topic upon which I am an expert; nothing that I feel I could beat anyone at. And while that’s a little discouraging sometime, I’m okay with that. I really am.
I could write this and tell you how much I’ve learned about problem solving and Piaget, supply and demand, fiction and phrasing . . . but I truly believe that college has had this extremely large impact on me. I like to think that I have a better idea of what the world is like. I like to think that I’m a good listener, and a good compromiser, and a good friend.
I feel so absolute, so free, so alive.
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