In high school, I had a huge group of supportive, ready-to-party friends. Every weekend we would have something planned. Either a house party, a concert—no matter what—we had plans Friday through Sunday. Then Monday we would plan the next weekend... This pattern lasted all four years of high school.

My graduating class had around 400 people (little pond). Everyone knew each other and we all got along surprisingly well for a plethora of hormonal, insecure high school students. Everyone knew each other on a first name basis, and nobody was really bullied. For all intents and purposes, we were a tight-knit high school. And I was a big fish.

I was overly qualified to do nothing. I did absolutely nothing in high school and rode the wave. And because of my denial of reality, I diagnosed myself with a life crushing disease, "Big Fish Little Pond Syndrome."

Big Fish Little Pond Syndrome—a student who is thought to be important in a limited arena, then attends college and gets a slap in the face.

Once I got to Kennesaw State University, I realized how truly small I was. I was back to square one. I entered a huge pond of 33,000 students, and I was a tiny, freshman fishy who instead of riding the wave was drowning in the riptide. There were so many new people, new faces, new scenery. This was not the pond I was used to.

When I first arrived at college, I thought I was going to be the queen. I figured I would, at least, see one person I knew. I forgot what it was like to introduce myself to new friends. I haven't had to in four years! It ended up definitely being humbling for me. Every conversation for the first week of college was "Hi, I'm Bonnie. Where are you from?" It was honestly exhausting to talk about fluff for so long. I really didn't care where anyone was from, but I had to converse at least a little.

This culture shock lasted with me until the end of freshman year. Eventually, I started to recognize on the way to classes the people who were once strangers to me. I would wave to people I knew. In the Kennesaw cafeteria, I would see the older people from my high school from the class of 20XX. I would begin to plan to party with people I hardly knew. But even though you vaguely know these people, you all have kept each other hostages to be each others best friends. And you're set for the next four years again.

Big Fish Little Pond Syndrome is a serious condition that shouldn't be taken lightly. Doctors will prescribe a high dosage of reality and humility.