Part I: Stony Brook
In the summer of '13 I cut off all my hair.
I entered Stony with a pixie cut and reservations of having chosen a safety over my dream school for the price tag. I moved into a dorm, a suite of 6 girls, for which I still have intense nostalgia. We decorated our walls in corny quotes and washi tape, got each other hyped to sit in a stranger's car for our first ever frat party, watched the series finale of How I Met Your Mother. We did all the things you and your freshmen roommates are supposed to do.
At our first Homecoming game, someone laughed when I cheered alongside the crowd. I asked them why and they told me it was funny to see the quiet girl make a sound.
My heart sank to my stomach when I heard those words. Here I was, in a new place trying to be a new person, and I was still somehow the quiet girl. They say that college is where you find yourself, but I thought I already knew who I was. I was so certain that I had become the person I promised my high school self I would be, and yet here was a cold slap in the face reminder that I was not.
That spring I let my hair grow out.
I spent the next two years actively pursuing the things I thought 18-year-old me would not have done. I joined Greek life, took up leadership positions, went out more. I tried to fulfill the bucket list of college experiences that movies tell you you should have.
And to be completely honest, it was a blast. I loved every minute of the drama, the sleepless nights and the drunken ones, the mornings where you think about going to class and instead find someone to get bagels with you. I filled my days as deliberately as I could, and felt like everything was finally under my precarious control.
And then I made the decision to leave. Stony had given me everything that it could. I had become the person I always wanted to be, and yet part of my heart felt fed up with the Island and afraid of who I would become if I stayed too long. Long Island is a funny place, a place where you grow up, go to college, and then move thirty miles west to the city and never leave.
Last semester I was talking to a guy who wasn't interested in applying to schools outside of Boston because his family was there and the place was home. I understood, but I couldn't stop myself from saying: now is your chance to see more! There is so much more life happening than what exists in your bubble every day. There are new cities to explore, new food to eat, new people to meet. Take advantage of the opportunities to challenge yourself.
18-year-old me would have stayed in New York out of fear. I owe it to my younger self to strike out and try new things, to refuse to be held back from new experiences by the comforts of familiarity.
It's been almost two years now since I graduated and left. I feel sad sometimes, seeing everyone I know still all together in one place, but never have I felt regret. My decision to leave New York led to some lonely nights, but it also led to my best friend (my doggo!), and some really marvelous days. It's been hard but I like to think it's been worth it, and that the experiences I've had since will ultimately shape me to be a better person.
I entered Stony with a pixie cut and reservations of having chosen a safety over my dream school for the price tag. I moved into a dorm, a suite of 6 girls, for which I still have intense nostalgia. We decorated our walls in corny quotes and washi tape, got each other hyped to sit in a stranger's car for our first ever frat party, watched the series finale of How I Met Your Mother. We did all the things you and your freshmen roommates are supposed to do.
At our first Homecoming game, someone laughed when I cheered alongside the crowd. I asked them why and they told me it was funny to see the quiet girl make a sound.
My heart sank to my stomach when I heard those words. Here I was, in a new place trying to be a new person, and I was still somehow the quiet girl. They say that college is where you find yourself, but I thought I already knew who I was. I was so certain that I had become the person I promised my high school self I would be, and yet here was a cold slap in the face reminder that I was not.
That spring I let my hair grow out.
I spent the next two years actively pursuing the things I thought 18-year-old me would not have done. I joined Greek life, took up leadership positions, went out more. I tried to fulfill the bucket list of college experiences that movies tell you you should have.
And to be completely honest, it was a blast. I loved every minute of the drama, the sleepless nights and the drunken ones, the mornings where you think about going to class and instead find someone to get bagels with you. I filled my days as deliberately as I could, and felt like everything was finally under my precarious control.
And then I made the decision to leave. Stony had given me everything that it could. I had become the person I always wanted to be, and yet part of my heart felt fed up with the Island and afraid of who I would become if I stayed too long. Long Island is a funny place, a place where you grow up, go to college, and then move thirty miles west to the city and never leave.
Last semester I was talking to a guy who wasn't interested in applying to schools outside of Boston because his family was there and the place was home. I understood, but I couldn't stop myself from saying: now is your chance to see more! There is so much more life happening than what exists in your bubble every day. There are new cities to explore, new food to eat, new people to meet. Take advantage of the opportunities to challenge yourself.
18-year-old me would have stayed in New York out of fear. I owe it to my younger self to strike out and try new things, to refuse to be held back from new experiences by the comforts of familiarity.
It's been almost two years now since I graduated and left. I feel sad sometimes, seeing everyone I know still all together in one place, but never have I felt regret. My decision to leave New York led to some lonely nights, but it also led to my best friend (my doggo!), and some really marvelous days. It's been hard but I like to think it's been worth it, and that the experiences I've had since will ultimately shape me to be a better person.
Love this, love you
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