I can remember it like it was yesterday-me waking up to a very well-written yet devastating email informing me that my dream college wasn't all that pumped to have me hanging around campus the following fall, and I would have to take my collegiate ambitions elsewhere. It was seven in the morning before school, and as I contemplated refusing to get out of bed, I realized my four-year long perfect attendance streak would have been broken, so I sucked it up and forced myself to don my kilt and drag myself into what was already a horrendous day. I decided not to tell anyone that I had been rejected by my dream school, instead bottling my feelings for a solid twenty minutes before confessing to my best friend that my dreams had been crushed. She immediately hugged me and assured me that everything would be fine, which meant a lot since my best friend is not a hugger, yet I still felt a nauseating mix of emotions that included disappointment and total confusion. Where would I go now? Was I now destined to be a complete failure, with only dreams of being a mime or circus clown in my future? I remember going through the day convinced I was an utter, total loser with no reason to think I would enjoy my soon to be sub-par college experience. Luckily, I was wrong.

The university I decided to go to has become my home. The friends I've made here are already more like family, and even though it's nearing the end of my first year, I'm still meeting amazing people that continue to surprise me. If it weren't for my potentially life-ruining rejection letter, I wouldn't have met my three best friends, or actually grown into the type of person that is no longer phased by rejection. It's as if after being told the absolute worst "no" I'm only further encouraged by being refused, and the person I am now would have told the senior-year high school me to stop hiding in the bathroom and get over it. Sure, it's difficult to immediately realize in the moment that not attending your dream school won't completely soil your existence, but judging from experience, everything happens for a reason, and I'm more than content to be spending my formative years at a school I never would have expected to mean so much to me.