Hey! Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking to you, First Semester of College. Can you believe we only met, like, three months ago? I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime. (Do you feel the same about me? Probably not.) Weird.

I remember over the summer, before we met, I had no idea what you would look like or what type of personality you had, even though so many people tried to describe you to me.

Some said you were friendly, but really tall, so I’d have to shout up at you if I wanted to carry on a conversation. Some said you were super chill and always up for a good time, but you knew when to be serious. Some said you were kind of strict, and others said you were protective. So yeah, I didn’t really know who you were or how our relationship was going to work.

On that first day, when you finally introduced yourself to me and to so many others, I was kind of surprised. I mean, I still didn’t really know you, but my first impression of you was pretty different from what I had expected (if I was expecting anything at all).

You were... smiling.

I know, I know, it makes sense to smile at newcomers, to make them feel welcome. But what struck me, I guess, is that yours was so genuine. You seemed like you were actually happy about us — about me — being there.

So I smiled back.

You were really nice during the next few weeks, answering all my questions as best as you could, showing me the ropes, helping me get to know you better.

But the thing is, you kind of forgot to turn the tables and get to know me.

Don’t take this the wrong way; you were never rude, exactly, and you never stopped offering me that smile when I caught your eye. It was just that I got the feeling you didn’t remember my name anymore. Or maybe you never learned it. I mean, did I ever introduce myself to you in the first place?

I’ll admit it: I felt a little neglected. But it’s okay, because I realize now that you lead a pretty busy life. You can’t always be checking in on everyone. I get it.

I’m glad you introduced me to some of your friends in those first few weeks, though. They helped me through a lot. It was amazing to me that I could be so real around them and not be labeled or judged or anything, really, but accepted. They’re not just your stand-ins anymore; they’ve managed to become great friends of my own. So thanks for that. Thanks for looking out for me, even if I was just one of many to you by then.

As the days and weeks went by, you kept offering me opportunities. Well, tossing them — shoving them in my face, actually. You kept telling me about internships and service trips and summer plans and study breaks and office hours and one-time-only, one-chance-only, one-life-only events. (Or so you said.)

I’m sorry; I sound ungrateful. I know it’s not your job to hold my hand. I still need to work on being my own boss. So if it sounds like I’m complaining, please don’t take it personally. I really do appreciate what you’ve given to me.

Because, when it comes down to it, you’ve done a lot. You’ve given me challenges and rude awakenings, disappointments that became lessons that are (slowly but surely) becoming motivations. You’ve given me support systems, smiles, songs, and small victories that meant the world. You’ve given me, if not total self-confidence just yet, then at least a blossoming sense of self-reliance.

You were fiery and friendly; you were miserable and miraculous; you were not bad and you were wonderful.

So I guess, in the end, I’m just really glad we met. Shoutout to you.