Different

1.

I have to stop my mouth from falling open as I step out of the car and take in the sprawling campus of Central Seattle University. The main building towers above me - grand, historic, more impressive than in the glossy brochures I'd pondered over for hours. I feel heavy with a familiar mixture of excitement and dread. I've dreamed of this day, feared it, doubted it, but somehow, here I am. Standing on the edge of a new beginning, bags packed, anxiety rising.

For someone like me, this moment is no small victory. It's a battle won. Every panic attack I pushed through, every anxious thought I fought off led me to this exact spot. I've avoided so many things that scared me - crowds, buses, anything unpredictable. Yet today, I'm here. And for once, I let myself feel a flicker of pride.

"Honey, are you ready?" my mom asks me gently, pulling me out of my trance as she unloads the last bag from the car. 

I take a deep breath, willing my nerves to settle. "You know the answer," I tell her with a shaky half-smile, trying to convince the both of us that everything's fine. "But I'm glad that you're here with me." 

She smiles back, that soft, reassuring smile she's given me a thousand times before. "Come on then, I'll walk you to your dorm." She squeezes my arm, her quiet way of saying you've got this. 

We each grab a bag and make our way across campus, weaving through the crowds of students and parents. It takes us forever to find my building, and even longer to navigate its endless grey hallways. Finally, we stop in front of a door at the very end of the corridor. I stare at the key in my hand, my fingers trembling slightly as I slide it into the lock. 

The door creaks open, revealing a small, bare room. Two single beds sit opposite each other beneath a narrow window. A typical dorm, just as I expected. But the view outside - the sunlit lawn, students sprawled across the grass with books and footballs -  gives me a strange sense of comfort. I would've never moved out from home, but I knew I wouldn't be able to worry about the thirty minute commute to campus each day. 

"It's cozy",  Mom says brightly as we step inside, trying her best to sound encouraging. She's the most loving, sensitive person I've ever known. She always gives me strength in situations that I need a little extra, and is the strongest woman I know. 

I let out a quiet laugh. "Sure, Mom." I set my bags down and start unpacking, filling the empty space with tiny pieces of home. She joins in without asking, sorting through my things like she always has. But I stop her. 

"Mom... let me do this." I gently take the clothes from her hands. "It'll keep me busy. And you've already done enough."

Her eyes soften with worry. "Are you sure?" 

I nod, even though the knot in my stomach tightens. "Yeah, I'll be okay." Better to rip the band-aid off now and get the worst part over with. 

She hesitates, then pulls me into a long hug. "Call me if you need anything." I know she's worries about me, and my heart breaks, because I know that's how she spends a lot of her time. 

"I will." I squeeze her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." She kisses my forehead, then steps back, lingering in the doorway like she's reluctant to let go. "You're stronger than you think, Mila."

I watch her leave, the door clicking shut behind her. And just like that, I'm alone. The silence is pressing in on me, heavy and unfamiliar. I feel hollow, my mind already racing. I force myself to stay calm, to move, to do something. Even though this was the hardest part, at least it's finally over. 

I blast music from my phone and start unpacking again - hanging photos above my bed, folding clothes into the wardrobe, arranging books in neat little piles. Anything to keep the anxiety at bay. When I'm finally done, I glance at the clock. It's only five in the afternoon. Too early to hide under the covers, too early to shut the world out. A wave of restlessness creeps in, coiling tight in my chest. I can't sit here waiting for the anxiety to swallow me whole. Get out, I tell myself. Move. Stay busy.

I grab my jacket and sneakers, slip my headphones in, and step outside. The dorm halls are bustling with other freshmen, their excitement buzzing in the air. I feel small among them, but oddly reassured - I'm not the only one lost in this new world. For now, I want to clear my head and take a look at the place I'm going to spend the next three years of my life in. 

With no real destination, I wander left, past the crowds of families saying goodbye, past groups of students already claiming their spots on campus lawn. I spot the cliques instantly - jocks tossing footballs, preppy girls snapping photos, serious-looking law students buried in books. College clichés at their best. Obviously these are just assumptions, but I know I must have some of them right.

I remember reading about a park nearby, something about a pond and walking trails. Craving a little peace, I pull out my phone for directions and follow the winding path away from campus. After a few minutes, I find it - a small, quiet park with a shimmering pond at its center, a dirt path circling the water. It's nearly empty. Perfect. I know I hate being alone, but too many people at once can be overwhelming too.

I breathe in the cool air, letting the stillness settle around me. For the first time all day, I feel the weight inside of me lift, just a little. Maybe this will be my safe place here. My refuge. I walk slowly around the pond, letting my thoughts drift with the music in my ears. Halfway around, I finally feel the tight grip of anxiety loosen.  This, college, is a good thing, and I don't want to fall apart on my first day already. 

But then - voices. Loud, cutting though my song. I glance up. A bench ahead. Four guys clustered around it - tattoos, dark clothes, cigarettes curling smoke in the air. I turn my music down, and squint my eyes slightly to get a better look. They look... intimidating. My stomach knots. I freeze for a second, debating whether to turn back. But it's too late. One of them looks up - and our eyes meet. He doesn't look away. Neither do I. And the first thing I notice about him, even from this distance, is his beautiful, deep brown eyes. 

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