When I hear the words "Temple University," I immediately get flooded with happiness.

When I first visited the campus when I was seventeen, I knew it was the place for me. I applied for early acceptance and got in. I was so happy to be going to my dream school. I moved into my dorm in August 2014 and was ready to start my new journey and my fresh start. I not only started to discover my place in the world, but I also made a best friend. We started out as suite mates and later in the semester we became roommates. You were always able to find us together on campus, whether we were getting food, (which was most of the time) or making our way to the student center. We treasured our late night trips to the dining hall to get the limited edition pumpkin spice ice cream. Our entire floor knew us as a package deal. Our RA, Tom, often referred to us as the "two old ladies" of our floor.

While at Temple, I also joined a 24-hour theater group called Insomnia Theater where I discovered myself even more. I loved everything about that school, from the professors, to the staff, to the community. I have to stress how much I love Temple University because I get the same response every time I tell someone I'm going back: "but I thought you hated it there." There is a reason I left and a reason I'm going back, so I wanted to clear it up for everyone.

The worst day of my life happened on Jan. 6, 2015. It was the day my grandmother died. After my mom died when I was 4 and my dad left when I was 5, I began to not know what stability was. My grandmother raised me and became my best friend. She was my rock and the person to whom I was closest. We had each other's backs all the time and as I got older, I took care of her as much as she took care of me. Winter break of my freshman year of college, I was never expecting my life to come crumbling apart. My grandmother went into the hospital, then a nursing home, and I knew she was facing her last days. Even though I knew it was coming, having my aunt walk in and wake me up at 3 a.m. to say "she's gone," made my heart sink and shatter. That whole day, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and the only person I wanted to hug and cry into their arms was my gram. She always told me that she didn't want me to cry or be sad when she died, so I repressed those emotions and put up a strong front. Then, four days after looking at her lifeless body with 100+ family members, most of who did not know her like I did, I had to return to Philadelphia and take on my spring semester.

After returning to school, my anxiety and panic attacks that I've had since age four came flooding back to me. I was having anxiety attacks as frequent as three times a day. There were few times where my eyes were not red and puffy. My previously mentioned roommate/ best friend, Laura, was there for me for all of it and I can never thank her enough for it. I went home for a weekend in February and when my gram wasn't there, I lost it. All 19 previous years of my life caught up with me and I completely broke. I made a split decision to transfer home the next semester in hopes it would help me grieve. I was prescribed anxiety medication and slowly started to get better. I attended Marywood University for my sophomore year and completely hated it. I didn't connect with the campus like I did at Temple. I didn't like the community, the classes, or the school itself. I was just going there so I didn't lose credits and so I could be home with my family. The whole time at that school I missed Temple so much. I would have phone conversations with Laura for hours talking about how I wanted to go back. I started seeing a therapist to cope with my anxiety even more. I then made the decision to return to Temple.

In April of this year, I visited Temple to talk to advisers about re-enrolling and also to visit friends. As soon as I got off the train and walked onto campus, I started to tear up. I was home. I knew I needed to go back and graduate from my dream school. This time, when I return, I will be older, a little wiser, and a whole lot stronger. I know that my gram would have wanted me to do what's best for me and my journey. Going back to Temple, I will take advice and the strength my gram gave me on her death bed:

She was sitting on a bedpan for about twenty minutes when I asked her finally if she was done and wanted me to get the nurse. Her response was "Well, if Christopher Columbus took a chance, so can I."

Now, I know she was referring to taking the chance that she wouldn't go to the bathroom in her underwear, but this quote stuck with me. So, like Columbus and my gram, I'm taking a chance and returning home.