As my departure for college fast approaches, I’ve been thinking a lot about the scary parts of college. It’s been all excitement, all the time, for several months now, maybe even years, but in the hassle of packing and vacationing and realizing that Utah is very much not green (incredibly unlike Pennsylvania), I’ve started to dip into holy-crap-this-is-actually-happening-and-maybe-I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing territory. I am ready for college. Maybe this is arrogant of me to say, but it is true. I am good at school and doing my own laundry and brushing my own hair. I have spent time at sleep-away camps and away from my mom, have stayed home alone for a weekend and pumped my own gas. I get good grades and do my readings and write above-average essays. But I am also very much not ready for college, it would seem. I don’t know how to cook or get various stains out of fabric or type all that well. I hate cleaning (sorry, suitemates!), I’m bad at first impressions, and I’ve almost never studied in my life. I don’t think I’ve properly done my homework since 10th grade, and I’ve taken seven AP classes since then. I always have my dad wake me up, I listen to music too loud, and I get cranky easily. But, most importantly, I’ve forgotten that I’m going to miss people.
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I'm Audrey, a college student and existential rambler.
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February 2021
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