I know. This is actually the most typical thing a sorority girl could say. You are probably going to write me off, right now, and continue scrolling through your never ending (and probably boring) news feed. Just hear me out.

When I was younger, there was a Starbucks right next to my school. During my elementary years, I remember going in as special treat for the first day of school, and beaming up at my dad as he said I could order lemon pound cake. We would sit and talk about the school year, who my teacher would be, and how much I was going to love my class.

In middle school, I started going to Starbucks with my friends after school during exam week to “study." It was my first taste of independence, and it tasted an awful lot like the vanilla bean frappuccino. My friends and I felt so old, as we pulled out our allowance to pay for a beautifully crafted, overpriced beverage. And of course, the best part was telling the barista that your name was “Fred" and then giggling to all your friends as he wrote it on the cup.

Starting in 10th grade, I drove my little brother to school and, as an incentive to get him out the door, I would again offer Starbucks. We had some friends that would join us there and we always ran to take over the couches. I'm sure some investment banker who was trying to get his morning fix probably rolled his eyes and muttered “those meddling kids" under his breath at us, but we didn't care. We were free! We had caffeine and a car!

As I got older, Starbucks became the best place to catch up with people. One of my very best friends is also addicted to coffee. Think, the Lorelei and Rory Gilmore addiction. We would grab a soy latte, and solve both our problems and the world's problems at a tiny circular table. She left for college a year before I did, which scared me because I felt like I was losing a mentor, a friend, and a fellow coffee enthusiast. But wouldn't you know, whenever she came back on the weekends, there we were, back in action with lattes in hand.

Thanks to Clemson, I have access to a beautiful and massive Starbucks right on campus (shoutout to my favorite barista, Donnell). And let me tell you, I am a regular. I think one of the first things my best friends and I bonded over was the fact that we loved Starbucks. It has become our study spot, our “let's meet up because we got out of class early" spot, and our “yay, we didn't fail our tests!" spot. In fact, we have even shortened the name to Starbs, so that we can get there even quicker. In pursuit of being a Starbucks gold card member (which I am), we have racked up enough stars to make a constellation. And of course, I can tell you each of their orders -- all with light ice, please.

All Starbucks pretty much have the same feel. An odd mix of overplayed songs and songs you have never heard before, a barista that will ask your name and spell it any way they desire, and a shrine of baked goods that tempts you while you wait in line. Yes, it may sound silly, but every Starbucks does feel like home, because a flood of memories from different times of my life come back and give me the warm fuzzy feeling that usually only a caramel macchiato can. So, Starbucks, this is my ode to you. I love you a latte.