1. Expect the Unexpected

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Lesson 1: Expect the Unexpected.

It was always our warped reflection looking back at us, never our true form. If we can not even recognize ourselves, how can we be expected to recognize the monster we turn into? Unfortunately, we fill in the blindspots on our own, never envisioning the darkness that lurks within.

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Maybe I should just turn around, the throbbing of my head goads my thoughts, making it difficult to focus on the road ahead of me. Breaking at the next light, I contemplate whether or not it would be acceptable to miss my first class this first semester.

Just one more light.

The combination of the late California summer heat and my hotboxed car- sans AC- produce an uncomfortable, and, unfortunately, unavoidable layer of sweat over my entire body.

"Man fuck this cast," I grumble as I vigorously scratch what little access I have to the back of my knee. The baby blue not as cute as it used to be as on the first day, who gives a damn if it matches my eyes. A wish that always seems to come to mind at every slight inconvenience creeps as I imagine myself tangled in my soft bedding, feeling the cool breeze of the one room AC unit next to me.

After nearly hitting a cyclist and having him dramatically flip me off, I turn onto the final curve into the parking lot and spot the tell-tale buildings in the distance.

The University of California, Los Angles. My dream school.

The sleepless nights. The waiting. The moving. The goodbyes. The new beginnings.

They have all lead me until this moment.

My mind races with never-ending possibilities and I desperately try to reclaim my nerves by humming to the tune of  "Isn't She Lovely" by Stevie Wonder. I have never been good at adapting to new places and making the jump from Manhattan to Los Angeles has definitely been a big, fat slap in the face. The humidity always makes me feel constantly not quite dry.

I longed to be back home. The summers arent quite as hot but the winters were always my favorite. Winter in New York was waking up to the smell of expresso and warm milk; the color of the warmth that only existed under your covers.

The parking lot is too crowded when I finally arrive, an animation of activity that seems to be occuring during the gaps in students schedules seems endless. Fellow commuters are arriving and rushing to their next class. A group of students is playing ultimate frisbee on either side of two symmetrical sunken gardens. Others are laying out and enjoying what the sun has to offer. I park in the handicap spot, shut off my engine and wait for the commotion around the self-service ticketing booth to calm down before I collect my parking pass.

My tangled, unbrushed hair clings to my moist face prompting me to toss it up in an unruly bun and I am offered temporary relief from sweat collecting on the back of my neck. I hope no one notices that I haven't showered recently. Niall and I have been staying at a dingy motel for the past two days whose water pipes broke prior to our check-in.

I had to brush my teeth with a water bottle.

A fvcking water bottle.

I hoist my body up and out of the driver seat, stumbling a bit, the uneven gravel crumbling beneath my one somewhat sturdy foot. It takes me a second to remember the tenderness in my underarms thanks to the rubber chaffing. Thankfully my palms have seemed to adapted slightly quicker with feint callouses where my grip in needed most.

Though there aren't as many people as before, there is still a herd of college students flooding the quad, trying to get to class, including me. To be quite honest, I'm not sure which building I m going to. After five minutes, the familiar discomfort becomes barely tolerable so I hobble to the stone bench for a rest and to reorient where the hell I am going.

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