There are few things more anxiety provoking than the 24 hours leading up to the moment of truth: opening your decision letter from the school of your dreams.
Everyone tells you it will be OK, that everyone ends up happy, but you can only see this one way. It seems like if you don't get into this one school your life is over, but I promise life takes you exactly where you belong. Have a little faith in that and a little faith in yourself.
No matter where you end up, college is the best four years of your life; take in every moment!
1. The night before
Sleep? The night before I hear back from my dream school? Yeah right. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll know whether my dreams are coming true or being crushed. So on that note, catch me hysterically crying at 11 p.m. and pacing around my room at 4 a.m.
I can’t believe tomorrow is the day; I've been reading about this day on college confidential since like four months ago. I’ve wanted to go to this school since I could speak. They better not reject me now.
2. The morning of
Forget breakfast, I can't even stomach my coffee today. I also have no idea how I’m driving to school because my legs will not stop shaking. If one person wishes me good luck or asks me how I am, I may have to scream in his/her face.I better be getting in my car tomorrow decked out in my school. If not, I'm not going. Not tomorrow and not ever again.
3. Noon
I can’t pay attention in this class, or any other class for that matter, for one more day. If I don't get in, I’m gonna have to try so hard in school for so many more months. I can’t do it. Senioritis is getting the best of me. Please accept me. PLEASE.
In three-and-a-half hours I’ll know about the rest of my life, and this decision WILL make or break me. I can’t see myself anywhere else. Oh boy, these people that I don't even know are actually about to ruin my life. I hope everyone is praying for me.
4. 2:30 PM
I need to leave school now. It is officially anxiety attack time. I can’t be here surrounded by people anymore because I can't hold back my tears for one more second. I am racing home. I’m not stopping at a single red light. I’m going 100 miles per hour. I need my bed, I need my mom and I need to refresh the portal every other second. I’m out of here. Hopefully, I make it home.
5. The moment we've all been waiting for: 5:00 P.M.
It’s time. I can’t look. This cannot actually be happening. I can’t even click my trackpad, my hand is shaking too much. I can’t see my screen because all I've done for the past three hours is cry. I can’t look. OK. I’m doing it.
One, two…. no, I can’t.
Maybe my mom should check for me, but then again, this is something I have to do on my own. If I want to go to college I have to be mature enough to handle this.
OK. I’m doing it. Right now. I have to rip the band-aid. Fingers crossed, toes crossed, knees crossed, eyes crossed. Everyone cross everything. It’s happening. Right. Now…