It was the end of summer. Just about two weeks after my 18th birthday. In my mind I carried anxiety, curiosity, excitement, and doubts. The anxiety of entering an academic environment I'm not used to. An environment with completely different people I had never met contrasted to the all the years I had been around the same group of peers; not being able to make connections with new people. The worry that my unknown roommate would be a party animal that always smells like alcohol and would not understand the meaning of personal space or property. I carried the curiosity of the experiences I would encounter in my college days. If college classes would actually be interesting or would they just an excuse to assign a ridiculous amount of papers with unrealistic requirements. I held curiosity about the types of people I would encounter, what their personalities would be like. I carried excitement of being accepted into Loyola, for the opportunity to see if I have what it takes to make it through college; for the chance to transform into a new person that would contribute to the world. However, in my mind and heart I carried the doubts of my own success and future. If I would be able to keep up my expected academic achievement or even measure up to others academic achievement at Loyola; if I would fail everyone that expected me to succeed at Loyola. Also, in my heart I carried my apparition of art and being able to access it so easily by living on Loyola's campus. I carried my desire try my best. Most importantly in my soul I carried the love and admiration of loved ones.
It was the most refreshing experiences of complete restlessness.
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