Sunday I began to pack my things. Slowly, my bedroom transformed from a comfortable alcove into an empty, sterile space. Before I left for school, I lay on my bare bed and stared at the ceiling, dreading the short drive back. God, I’m such a brat.
When I walked into my dorm room, my roommate and her friends were sitting around and listening to “My Chick Bad.” They would shout-sing to really boring parts but remain silent when Ludacris sang my favorite lines: “All white top, all white belt / All white jeans, body looking like milk.” “LOSERS,” I shouted as I walked past. Just kidding. I said hey and walked to my corner of the room.
Later that night I went to get ice cream and see a movie with my brother. After the movie we stopped by my dorm so I could pick up some laundry. I took a break in my dorm room to cry sloppily, consumed with self-pity. But then, back at the car, my brother told me something that totally helped me get over myself. Hugging me, he gave me a reminder: “You have a fake ID now. You can be sassy and do stuff.” He also said something encouraging and wise about school, but the important thing was the fake ID.
This semester isn’t going to suck. I’m going to finish reapplying to colleges, work hard in my classes, and, most important, go out of my way to get wasted. Self-pity is stupid and no fun. Getting wasted is stupid and some fun. This semester of college could be some fun. Awesome! ♦