I don't remember high school.

Freshman year of college feels like a million years ago.

I'm studying for the GRE, prepping to finish my last year of undergrad, feeling the stress and joy of moving on in life... Yet I can't help but wonder: where did time go? Where did I go?

I still feel like the same person I've always been, but I know I'm not. I know I'm older, wiser, more mature. I also know that I have a lot of growing up to do. And still there are things that I've done forever, or feel like forever. I don't know anymore. 

If this is real life, then real life is confusing and difficult and strange. Obviously we've been warned about this, right? Reality is nothing on imagination.

I haven't written much (of ANYTHING) lately. Coming on here to wax poetically on life just didn't matter. I think it's because I lacked serious inspiration.

Well, I've found some... And he's really cute too. Let's see where this takes me.

I think I'm slowly turning into the person I kind of always wanted to be. Considering I'm not planning on keeping this a secret, I guess I might as well share what I mean...

First off, I'm doing better in school. Yeah, it's a week in but I feel like I'm keeping up with everything already and doing my best. Then there's working a really good schedule and making enough money that I can EASILY afford rent and everything without being a burden to my parents. I'm starting to feel... independent in that way now.

To add to that, there's the sorority thing which is going SO wonderfully well. I'm on the executive board and I get to talk during chapter and I'm seriously doing something with my time. I'm helping out my sisterhood, and that feels great.

Next, I'm totally getting hit on at work all the time. Hello much needed ego boost. (And then to go along with that: HELLO random make out sessions at NIGHT CLUBS.)

Okay, more details on that one. I'm finally going to clubs and meeting strangers and dancing and going to bars and having a good time and being all adult-like. This is incredible. I can't believe it's all finally happening. I'm finally turning into a real person. I was sick of being a slightly grown up kid.

I can't wait to see where this next phase of life will take me. Adventure awaits.

I'm going to be published, assuming the book my contribution is in ever gets off the ground. I signed the release form, sent it off, and now I'm just crossing my fingers that a publishing house picks up her proposal.

Finally, something I've done that matters to me is seeing some fruition. Something I care about, that I want -- that I've always wanted -- it's finally coming true. I can only hope that this is a first and not an only.

There are two days a year that put me in a bad mood. One is the date of my grandma's stroke, and the other is the day that started my terrible phobia. Today is that second day.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving is the day I melodramatically call "the Dark Day." To spare details, I was sick and the phobia began. Now every year on the bad Tuesday, I have panic attacks almost all day long. I can't help it. I just remember that day (no matter how hard I try to forget) and it all comes back in waves of fear. It doesn't help at ALL if I have any kind of sickness that day. One year I had a cold. I was certain it was a terrible virus which would cause me to vomit blood. Another year I had cramps. A different year, I had a headache. Clearly that was the start of another flu.

See, I know realistically that this is the one day a year I can pretty much say I'm safe. It's like lightening striking the same place twice. And I might know all of this on a rational level, but it doesn't change a damn thing. So here I am at 12:06 am on "the Dark Day," and I have a sore throat and my stomach is making sounds. Now, could this have anything to do with the fact that I hardly moved for the better part of the day, sat in front of the blasting air conditioner (which hasn't had it's vent cleaned in months), and ate junk food instead of real meals because I couldn't be bothered to cook? I'm going to say yes, those are probably the reasons why. But it just doesn't matter. I'm still freaking out. And it's only been Tuesday for eight minutes now.

OH WHAT THE HELL THERE'S A FLY IN HERE? A FLY? IT'S NOVEMBER. GET OUT OF HERE, FLY.

So here I am, midnight and taking xanax just so I can get to sleep and hopefully not dream about the bad times of the past. 

In all, Happy Thanksgiving.