May We Meet Again.

two.

Eight o'clock rolls around and it's time for me to get ready for my first class of the day. I sit up in bed and look across the room to see Charlotte sound asleep in her bed. As annoyed as I am at her fantastic communication skills, I'm glad she's back and hope she has a good first day of class.

After about fifteen minutes of contemplating whether an education is actually worth getting out of bed, I roll out and head straight to the cabinet I'm supposed to call my closet. I'm weird and already decided what I was going to wear last night so I pull out a grey v-neck, black skinny jeans and my favorite denim jacket. Dressy, I know. Of course I want to have a good "first impression" but I also don't want to be the freshman dressed way too nice for their first day. This look will do and honestly I'm probably gonna end up wearing leggings and a t-shirt tomorrow.

I head over to my desk and pull out my little mirror so I can put on a bit of makeup and straighten my hair. It's a pretty simple look today, darker eyeshadow in the crease with eyeliner swept across my top lash line.

When I finish, I put my stuff away, pack up my bag, and head out the door. Class starts at nine-thirty and when I look at the clock it's only a quarter 'til nine. Great. I swear I'm always way too early on the first day but late every other day of the year. Just when I'm trying to come up with different ways to kill these next thirty minutes, my stomach growls. I most definitely haven't eaten breakfast yet, so I look up the closest McDonald's to grab a quick hash brown or something. There's one about a mile off of campus, so I plug it into my phone, hop in my car, and head in that direction.

I settle with a strawberry-banana smoothie, McMuffin, and a hash brown. Sitting down to eat, I pull out my phone to scroll through Twitter a bit, honestly trying to ease my mind from the stress that is my first actual day of college. It's crazy how fast high school flew by but honestly I couldn't be happier. I'm right here in my element, on my own.

Twenty minutes later, I clean up and head back to my car. My first class is a Communications course, Introduction to Public Speaking, I believe. Which sucks, because I absolutely hate talking to people, let alone in front of an entire class. It's a general education course, so obviously I have to take it, but I would prefer if I didn't.

I walk into the classroom, a massive lecture hall that puts my small high school auditorium to shame. This'll definitely be settling for presentations, without a doubt. Not.

I take a seat towards the middle of the room, with eight minutes to spare before class actually begins. I sit on my phone while the rest of the class begins to fill in and sure enough, the size of the room was definitely necessary.

You're here for a reason, trying to find a new you. Even if that means becoming more of a people-person and not letting your crippling anxiety take over as usual.

Hopefully this class won't be as presentation-heavy as I'm picturing it. Obviously it's gonna have some but, maybe it'll be centered around lectures?

"Good morning, everyone! Hope you're all having a wonderful day so far. My name is Professor Rochester and welcome to COMM 1020." My professor enters the room with a wide grin plastered across his face. Along with that, he seems to be a very pleasant person, which is a good sign, I hope. He's short and stout, with full head of jet black hair. His brightly colored tie seems to match his attitude as he begins explaining what lies ahead of us this semester.

"This semester will consist of lectures, tests, and in-class presentations. Your presentations will be the majority of your grade, as listed in the syllabus."

Perfect. Just perfect. I guess this is just the universe telling me it really is time to get out of my shell.

The rest of the class drags on, as I expected. When we're finally let out, it feels as if I haven't experienced sunshine in a lifetime. Maybe a little extreme, but time seems to move significantly slower when you're doing exactly what you don't want to be doing.