There's a lot of stigmas that surrounds the word "sorority," mostly consisting of claims that it's an easy way to "buy" friendships and that sororities are simply groups of girls that enjoy partying and getting drunk at 10 in the morning. When I decided to rush after receiving an acceptance letter to the school I wanted to attend, that was a lot of what I heard, and while I knew that nothing could change my decision to go through the process of joining a sorority, those thoughts lingered in the back of my head. Would I join the wrong one and end up with girls that would always be there for the downtown scene but never there to sit with you at two in the morning when your boyfriend just broke up with you? Would they be there to have movie nights or go to dinner just because it's been a week since they've seen you, and they've missed you, or would I only find girls concerned with hair and makeup and when the next fraternity party would be?

When bid day came, overwhelmed was an understatement. There were 67 other brand new faces, more than there were in my entire graduating high school class, and only one of those faces did I know simply because I had met her a few days prior during a different round. I didn't know what I was doing and desperately needed someone to help me feel a little more like I knew what was going on and that I actually could learn all 67 names and faces.

A few weeks later I was paired up with an older girl who, honestly, looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. If I wasn't already a little freaked out by the newness of being in a sorority, I now felt a lot freaked out and like I had to put a paper bag over my head any time I had to stand next to her. But we sat crisscross on the couch of the formal living room of the house, and we talked for hours about our mutual love of smoothies and Pauley's, how I needed to see one of her favorite movies because she knew already that I would love it, how much I loved Froot Loops, all the anticipation of the many, many sorority t-shirts soon to come and how fluffy socks were probably the greatest thing in the world, second only to sour candy.

A few days later, after going on a smoothie run because we had talked so much about them we were both now craving smoothies, I sat in her car, and we talked about how cool she thought it was that I drove a lifted truck — something I hadn't heard often simply because the people at my school thought a girl couldn't drive a lifted truck. We talked about how I had hated high school and had struggled severely with depression and bullying my junior year, and she wrapped her arms around me while I cried in the Chi Phi parking lot telling her about the five friends I had buried in the last few weeks. She wrapped her arms around me again a few days later after abandoning her date on our first date night of the year after I found out only an hour earlier that one of my close friends had fallen into a diabetic coma and been found a few hours too late. She was the first person I texted.

Big/Little Day came, and we had matching crowns. Her room was covered with dozens of sorority t-shirts, blankets, cups and just about anything else you could possibly find that would have our letters on it, including a giant box of Froot Loops and a whole lot of sour candy and pairs of fluffy socks right next to it all. That day feels like yesterday, but since then we've been through a very annoying season of the Bachelor, breakups and heartbreak, boys that turn out to not be as great as we had hoped, hours of sliding around the kitchen in fuzzy socks, hurtful texts from old classmates as a result of a previous Odyssey article of mine, lots of sour candy runs, a walk back late at night that took a turn for the worst, a long-loved dog with cancer and more bowls of pho soup than we can count. There have been good days and bad days, lots of tears and lots more laughter, late-night car rides and last-minute sleepovers, jam sessions and moments to be quiet and just be there for each other.

This week, we're celebrating our big sisters by painting them crowns, a tradition within our chapter. While, of course, I painted her a crown, it didn't nearly seem like it was enough for everything she's done for me and for every step she's walked with me.

So...

Celena, thank you for being the absolute biggest blessing and the absolute best friend — for really terrible singing in the car to Lady Gaga and for teaching me the correct way to say pho, for supporting me when I changed my major and for loving Channing Tatum as much as I do. Thank you for being there the day the article came out and for being there the week I stayed at the house, for letting me raid your closet and for helping me learn all 67 names and faces. Thank you for being there for everything, for little things that just involved talking crisscross on your bed that I need a running start to get up on and for level 10 Ben and Jerry's and candy combo situations. Thank you for being there at two in the morning when things didn't go so well and for movie nights and dinner because it's been 2 days and that's just 2 days too long. Thank you for erasing any worry or concern I had and for being there every step of the way and every Bachelor Monday.

Thank you, for being my big sister.