The day? The 19th of September.

The setting? Me, crying in the dark, by myself in a nearly empty dorm room (which is still hilarious).

The occasion? My parents had just left, and I didn't go with them.

Why? Because I was supposed to be starting a new chapter of my life as a college freshman—which, at the same time, was both incredibly exciting and daunting.

The summer before I started my freshman year, all I could think about was going college, making new friends, being independent and making all the great memories that you're told you will make in what is deemed "the best years of your life." At the same time, however, I was secretly terrified of this new endeavor - and I know this is how everyone feels - but I really failed to acknowledge my fears until that first night alone in my dorm room, which was when reality finally set in.

I went to a small high school (which was the same school as my middle school), and my friends consisted of people that I had known since I was 11 years old; so one could assume that I wasn't necessarily well equipped for drastic life changes.

In addition, I was often shy in high school and found myself getting nervous in social situations - even with people I had known for many years. So, you could imagine the kind of nerves I felt as move-in day crept closer and closer.

I would be lying if I said that the first few weeks of college were a breeze - because they're not. You're dealing with being on your own for the first time and juggling difficult classes, all while trying to make lasting friendships. It's pretty difficult, but at some point you hit a learning curve, and it all gradually becomes easier to handle.

You start to enjoy your independence, you get a grip on your classes, and you really do start to make lasting friendships. Through college, I have met some of the most genuine, understanding, funny and loving people. And yes, I have started to make lasting memories with them, in what I have actually grown to believe will really be some of the best years of my life.

Some memories of the year include but are definitely not limited to: the sunset picnics and bonfires on the beach, the late night, off campus endeavors, the grueling hours at the library studying together as delusion sets in, and the long drives to the beach while simultaneously listening to and discussing awesome music together. Freshman year has honestly been the best year of my life - and yes, this is an incredibly sappy, yet truthful statement. Now, instead of crying in the dark by myself, I have found people that will cry in the dark with me. Now that's what I call growth.

And that's why I cannot wait to go back and see everyone.

Thank goodness for summer classes, am I right?