Falalala! I just can't wait any longer. It's just too much. So I got up, took a hot shower, dressed up and off I went! - to the mirror. I stood in front of the mirror and saw myself. This totally prepared and so beautiful girl in her on ways... just staring back at me. This women I say is so fascinating, so successful yet so humble. And I knew then that it was just my reflection. I remembered something like this . Me staring at the mirror. And then, the memory flashed right in front of my eyes.
I was tying my hair in a bun, damping a little moisturiser on my face, standing up right and feeling tall. Then, I stooped moving. I just looked at the mirror, checking on myself. I did look good enough for the first day of registration, at college! I thought I needed more eyeliner and actually was thinking of wearing a pair of heels. But, I stopped myself. This is enough. I am enough.
It was already 8 and I was going to miss my train! So I hurried up, wore my sneakers and ran to the station with my luggage. After half an hour, there I was. The entrance of my new college life staring right back at me and watching me blink blindly. I took a deep breath, and went right in.
The place looked good. A senior showed me the way to my dorm. I thanked her. I think her name is Vanesa. I don't know, i'm not good with names. As soon as I entered my dorm, I started unpacking. My bathroom slippers, my 10-year old lingerie - my bossoms never grew after the age of 16 so..- and obviously my favourite thing of all things, my blankie! Yeah, I know. 18-year old girl with a blankie? I hid it under my pillow so my room mate wouldn't know. I don't like her. Don't get me wrong, I have not seen her but her name agitates the freaking crap out of me! Sabrina. What a rip off!
Oh, who cares! Let's see who she really is when she comes... I don't wanna spoil my mood. I continued unpacking and took out another precious thing of mine that was with me from the age of 5. My journal. At the cover, I could see my name 'Denise'. And then. I smiled. It felt good.
