As I was packing my duffle bag last night, planning my outfits for Christmas dinner and one for a night with friends from high school, I was struck by a pang of anxiety. The thought of seeing people from home, who I hadn't seen in a year and a half, made my head pound and my heart race. A flood of superficial questions pummeled my brain. What would I say to them? What stories could I tell them to impress them after my year of crazy new adventures? What would I wear to show my new-found confidence and self love? I folded my pants and asked myself why I even cared what these people thought of me.

These were people who have known me since kindergarten, the people that saw me during my Bermuda shorts and neon pink Nike high-top sneaker phase, the people who know things about me no one at college should ever know (and never will). I know them. They know me. But now I had been gone for a year and half. I have been to Germany on a Gap Year and back. They have been to sunny California or weird-talking Boston and back. Now we are to see each other again and try to explain our lives in a two minute conversation before one of us gets bored.

I have done a lot in a year. More than I can fit into two minutes. I became fluent in a language. Drank legally for the first time for a whole darn year. Sat on my suitcase for seven hours on a train packed with Europeans as it sped across the entirety of Germany. Made friendships by saying simple phrases before the more complex were able to be formed in my mind. Became prom queen at my high school's AbiBall (senior prom) where they all knew me as the bubbly american exchange student. And then left it all. Then two months later, turned around and did it all again just this time, in a college dorm, speaking a language native to me.

I like to say that I am not the same person that I was when I left in the summer 2015 but I am. It's still weirdo me that's singular goal in life is to be happy and have a world around me that is filled with love. It's me but I am molded differently, able to fit shapes never thought possible. Curved around the edges and with a magnet in my heart always slightly pulling me back to Hermann-Meyer-Strasse 16.

But so have they. Those poopy boys who never really made me feel great inside have been molded too. They have stories of their own to show off their new forms. Those poopy boys who never really seemed to value my friendship maybe have found value in people they have met at college. Maybe they have found new value in themselves and have grown as people. I sure hope so. Maybe they are packing their duffle bags right now worrying about how they will present themselves to people back home too.

I expressed this to my friends at our last family dinner yesterday and they assured me that if I act myself all will be well. It was nice to hear those words of confidence from people who four months ago where just my floor mates and nice people who said hello in the hallway. Those people are now the highlights of my day at college and my family.

I am incredibly lucky to have experienced so many things in the past two years of my life and now I get to share and learn about others.

So to you poopy boys who thought I was annoying for being the loud and silly girl that I am, I say hello! I am ready to hear how you have grown and what you want to do with your life.