The next chapter of my life began on a Monday afternoon. It consisted of a cramped eight-hour drive, many bathroom breaks, and meeting my new best friend. “Katie.” “Katie.” “Hey, Sweetie?” “KATIE!” All of a sudden I felt a tugging at my ears, my brother was motioning to stop blasting my music at an ungodly volume. “What?” I asked calmly after removing my headphones, alarmed by the sudden screech my mom had let out. “We’re here hon, you ready?” It had been 4 months since I was released from the hospital. I could still hear the beeping from the machines late at night, the persistent nurses always asking me if I could hear them-if I was awake. I was always awake. There was not a second that went by without my mind racing through all of the opportunities I was missing out on, how I was alone, the idea that my mistakes and distorted mindset led me to miss the first semester of my freshman year of college. Was I ready? Yes. I had been ready since the last day of senior year where I had graduated with an embarrassing amount of AP credit that almost placed me at the level of an undergraduate junior. To answer my mom’s question politely and simply: “Only if you are!” Since my visit to the hospital earlier this year, I was super apprehensive about coming to SDSU. It is a commonality within the college community that SDSU is known for having some of the most gorgeous, attractive, and jaw-dropping students. I don’t know if this is due to the fact that the ocean is a 20-minute drive from campus or the fact that the weather doesn’t drop below 50 degrees, yet coming to SDSU I was in shock by the habits so many of the girls had adopted, the habits that I once had. The habits that held my hand and led me to the hospital for 4 months where I was bedridden due to the possible failure of my organs. Did you know that only one out of every ten people who suffer from eating disorders receive help? A fun fact I learned during one of my many long and arduous counseling sessions. Anorexia and Bulimia Nervosa, both as daunting as they sound. These two disorders embody the mentally and physically tasking ideals that I subjected myself to over the summer of 2018. Not a single day went by that summer where my dinner didn’t end up in the trash, uneaten, or purged in a nearby toilet. The meals I would consume that didn’t rack my brain with guilt consisted of the occasional munching of rice cakes and celery, both low-calorie options that left me malnourished and depressed. Eventually, my body couldn’t handle the stress of my daily activities mixed with my constant suppressed hunger, it became too much. So it shut down. The day my mom found me hunched over the toilet, my toothbrush shoved down my throat, attempting to provoke a gag reflex, an image that she will never forget. This was the day I was committed to Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital, where I would spend my time until it was clear that my mental and physical state had become stabilized. It’s been two months since I started my first semester at San Diego State University. In a nutshell, I love my life. My classes are actually interesting with thought-provoking professors, a refreshing scene in comparison to the dryness of my high school classes. The food is incredible, the variety of dining options provided makes mealtime very stressful. My friends are the biggest goofballs I have ever met. All extroverted, fearless, kind soles with a splash of nerdiness running through their veins. She was just as gorgeous as she appeared on Instagram, Caitlyn Beckett, my roommate and foretold to be future best friend. Tanned skin, piercing green eyes, and light brown locks that had been bleached by the sun, streaks of blonde ran throughout her thick head of hair. She was gorgeous at first glance and even more beautiful on the inside as you got to know her. Caitlyn was that girl. The girl that everybody wanted to be friends with, the girl that everyone wanted to hate but couldn’t because of her extroverted, kind, and loyal personality. It was impossible to hate her. Boys threw themselves at her, even some girls wanted to date her. The preconceived notion that your roommate would become your best friend was one that I hoped was true. All of those months I was bedridden, stuck in a dreary hospital room, was time spent fantasizing about what my new life would be like. How I would decorate my dorm room, the new coffee shop I would spend my time and money at, and the girl that I would share a 10x10 living space with. Thank god that notion stood true. Caitlyn and I instantly clicked. The day I walked into Zura hall she was already waiting in the lobby, grinning from ear to ear, ready to help with whatever boxes needed to be manhandled up the stairs. From our previous conversations via social media and instant messaging, we had already established a solid understanding of each other. I felt as though I had known her already for a long time as a personal friend. For the basic and cliche saying, “we just got each other”, or my favorite, “it was like sparks flying”. Since then, we’ve been inseparable. From eating our meals together at the dining halls to staying up late cramming for our excruciatingly hard exams the next day, Caitlyn and I did everything together. Now, there is one aspect of the new exotic lifestyle of a college student that I have not touched on yet, the part that is over fantasized by the media. Partying. Yes, it is true in all of its glory, college parties really are that fun. However, they also are disgusting, repulsive, and horrifying all at the same time. Yet, despite their lesser qualities, everyone still basked in their captivating social scenes where girls danced like nobody was watching, knowing that everybody was watching. The idea of partying on a Tuesday night absolutely baffled me. Freshman through senior year of high school the craziest school night I ever had was secretly staying at my boyfriend's house until 11:30 PM watching a movie. Never had I imagined in my wildest dreams would I wake up on a Wednesday morning with a grueling headache, pounding in and out of one ear to the next, and the sensation that my insides had been scrunched into a rubber band ball and were being extorted from my body. Alcohol is one deadly poison. In all honesty, these last two months have been the most conflicting times I have ever experienced. I watch my friends thrive in the social scenes, making friends, unintentionally captivating every boy's attention with their outgoing personalities and ridiculously good looks. The unhealthy balance that they have created of their lifestyles consisting of binge drinking Tuesday through Saturday nights with studying and classes mixed in. The balance does not come as easy to me. As I flip through social media looking at each individual, perfectly captured image the sorority girls post, I remind myself that it’s not real. “Social media is the freaking devil,” Caitlyn once told me. “Don’t look at those girls, they’re not real.” “I just don’t understand how everybody is able to go out multiple times a week binge drinking, eating late-night munchies, and yet still feeling confident,” I confessed to Caitlyn. “Katie, its what you make of it. If you portray yourself to be somebody who is introverted, unconfident, and doubtful of themselves, then other people will see through that. I don’t want to see you slip back into your old mindset, this is a new chapter for you, a fresh start. Make it what you can.” Caitlyn always knew what to say. There are two more months left of freshman year. After reminiscing about the conversation I had with Caitlyn, I am going to wrap up this prolonged journal entry by concluding that there is no time to feel sorry for myself. According to my hyper-intelligent mother who possessed an absurd amount of knowledge, 91% of females surveyed on college campuses’ had admitted to trying to control their weight by dieting or disordered eating. I remembered that statistic often, whether it was memories that haunted me or a moment of weakness where I felt inferior. At the beginning of the year, my therapist said to me: “Without social media, there would be no insane pressure to constantly live a picture-perfect life, nobody would feel the need to carry themselves as somebody they are not.” I feel as though this statement stands true. In my opinion, social media is a distorted outlet of society where unrealistic standards and lifestyles are portrayed. For the next two months, I plan to live an in the moment lifestyle where social media will no longer be a tyrant. I will rule my life as I am the only one capable of implementing change within it.