WHERE I AM

Let me tell you about College Michelle.
She walks an average of 10 miles a day.
She wears glasses and no makeup and decides to love the skin she’s in. She’s leaving “trying too hard” in high school.
She blasts ABBA Gold on the way to class, catching herself singing along and air-drumming, too. Sometimes Lorde. Sometimes The Lumineers, depending on the weather.
She studies linguistics by the window in a library positioned inside of a bridge.
She finds herself surprisingly fascinated by her Computer Science class, endlessly intrigued by subjects she never expected to enjoy.
She sips coffee and people-watches from the top of the pylons, observing tiny figures make their way across the Drillfield in the middle of the afternoon.
She raises her hand in classes full of upperclassmen and intimidating professors. She laughs at herself. She is okay with this now.
She eats caprese sandwiches in the sun while sharing life stories and past traumas with new faces she now calls friends.
She has already consumed more smoothie bowls than she’d like to admit.
She goes on late night jasmine tea dates.
She decorates her side of the room with sunflowers and the color yellow.
She sleeps up high, lofted close to the ceiling, crawling into bed late and out of it early.
She checks the mailbox. She explores. She loves fiercely.
She misses the safety of being home. She misses her bed, her world, her language. But this is her home now, too—and she’s already terrified of the day she has to leave.
And College Michelle isn’t comfortable. She is pushed to her limits and overwhelmed by the freedom of having everything she could possibly need at her fingertips— but she’s the happiest, most authentic Michelle that has ever lived.

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