Afraid.

March is over. With every day that passes I get this panicky feeling in my stomach. Like the best part of my life is rapidly coming to an end. Freshman year I feel like I wasted – not appreciating the fact that I only had three more years in this wonderful college experience. Sophomore year flew by, as I partied and enjoyed friends’ company. And now here we are, finishing up as juniors, with only one precious year left. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I don’t know where I want to live. I don’t have any awesome plans for my future. And bottom line, I really don’t want to grow up.

This panicky feeling gets worse as I count down the days ‘til the end of this semester. It develops into a consuming gnaw at my stomach as I think of all the friends that will soon be graduating, some to never be seen again. And I can’t help but feel a pang of terror in knowing that a year from now I will be in their shoes, ready to take the next steps of my journey. To say goodbyes, to shed tears, and to look upon faces that I may never lay eyes on again.

They say that college is the best four years of your life, and if I could do anything, it would be to rewind to that first day of freshman year, when you pull up to that dorm building and start unloading your luggage as you begin your new life. If only I could feel that tingle in every muscle as I anticipated my roommates, and school work, and friends. As I walked up those dorm stairs for the first time, I was so scared, nearly terrified, of what might lie ahead, but not half as scared as I am now.