"The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving." -Eat, Pray, Love.

I guess it hit me when we were taking our senior class photo for the paper. Everyone was standing there with their cap and gowns on, smiling because we were so close to graduation day that we could almost reach out and grab it. Everyone knew where they were going in the fall, what they were going to study, who they were gonna room with. It was in that moment that I had never felt so left out. And who was to blame for that feeling besides me? Not a soul on earth.

I thought that if as long as I had my boyfriend, my best friends and my parents that I would be okay and everything would work out just fine. I had never been so wrong. Every time from that point on when I would think about what I would do in August, I thought about something else. Anything else.

I finally signed up for two classes for the fall semester at the local community college in July. I was still going on the assumption that everything would work out just like it had for the past 18 years of my life. That my boyfriend would be there to love and support me, that my best friends would have the words to say to me, and that my parents would accept me.

Well, let me give you some advice. The boyfriend that you swear you are going to marry someday, when you're 17-years-old, breaks up with you. The best friends that said they would be there no matter what, leave and move on with life. And there I was. It was August. My friends had all taken off for college, my boyfriend left me and I had no intention for doing anything productive.

I was alone. I was in the town that I grew up with, without the people I grew up with in it. I cried for two weeks straight it seemed. Two weeks turned into months. I was depressed to the point that I forgot why I was upset in the first place. I dropped out of my classes. All I did was work and watch depressing break up movies over and over again.

I was intoxicated with my sadness.

It was a Tuesday night in late November when I looked myself in the mirror with black tears rolling town my mascara stained face and said "I'm tired of living like this." I had been laying down for months. I was going through the motions everyday, but I was standing still. Everyone was moving around me, like I was a road block that everyone wanted to avoid. Until I said enough was enough. I quit feeling sorry for myself. I picked myself back up.

I had to fall back in love with myself, and that's exactly what I did. I spent some quality time with myself, to learn to be happy with just me. Not to depend on someone else for my happiness.

I'm not writing this to tell you my sob story, I'm writing this to tell you that you aren't alone. Life is hard. No matter how lovely and pretty we paint it to be. As soon as I got back up and started living, my life transformed. I changed into a totally different person. I'm not at a big university, I'm not in a sorority — I never will be. And that's okay. While I regret wasting almost six months of my life, I do not regret the lessons I got out of it. I'm writing this a year later. I have new friends, my GPA is higher than it's ever been and I have the most amazing guy who pushes me to be better everyday. I'll have my degree in two years and that thrills me like no other. My parents are more proud than they have ever been. I love myself more than I thought I could.

It's okay to stay behind and be that girl. It's okay to not have a plan. It's okay to not be like everyone else. It's okay to not be okay. Just remember, if you stay, move. Never stand still. Because how can you move forward with life if you stand still?