This morning, after over a month of hand cramps and lost words, I finally finished the list of thank you notes I had to write for everyone who came to my graduation party. Over 100 Thank Yous, finally signed and sealed in envelopes. When I finally scrawled my signature on the last one, I looked at the list we made—check marks over the ones we finished, names highlighted in pink ink when they were mailed—and I thought back to the party. It had rained on and off that day, but everyone was either inside the (overcrowded) pavilion at the state park next to our house, eating and talking, or out on the (overcrowded) deck, listening to me, my siblings, and a couple of our teachers singing and playing guitar. And everyone was happy, and I was surprised, because I didn't know so many people loved us so much that we could overfill a beach pavilion with people that supported and loved us.

And that's when I knew that I was scared out of my mind to be going to college in four weeks.

The simple reason is this: I'm not ready. That, however, is a lie, because I have been saying since 10th grade how much I couldn't wait to move on with my life. I believe I am mentally prepared to take on the opportunities and stresses of college and life after the small town that grew up in. I am also physically ready for the college lifestyle; I've eaten nothing but pizza and pop tarts since I've graduated, and I mastered the fine art of cooking Ramen noodles long ago.

I am not, however, ready to make a fresh start or leave my friends back home behind. When I was a sophomore, most of my friends were seniors, which made it hard for me when it came time for them to go off and start their own real lives after high school. Now, I'm in the same situation again, except all my friends are underclassmen. That doesn't make it any less hard to move on, though.

My siblings are luckier than I am; my sister is going to Mohawk Valley Community College with friends from Morris and Oneonta, the towns next to mine, and she met her roommate on a soccer trip to Europe last year. Meanwhile, my brother is going to Tompkins Cortland Community College with three of our classmates. I'm going into Purchase only knowing a handful of people from orientation, which isn't necessarily a bad thing; for the first time in 18 and a half years, we'll all be completely separated and living our own lives, which is what we've all wanted since we were young. But while my siblings have an established support base going into college, I do not.

I guess the more complicated reason as to why I'm scared of moving on is this: I'm not, nor have I ever been, good at saying goodbye. That doesn't mean I don't want to try; I have made plans to catch up and say goodbye with many people all summer, but most of those plans never came to fruition. I have already promised everyone I know at least twice that they will be getting my college address so they can write to me, and so, hopefully, I can write to them too, but I don't know if that will be enough. If anything, it might make me feel even more homesick, and I don't want to ruin my college experience by feeling worse off than before I left.

Saying goodbye is the hardest part of any relationship, but not getting the chance, I believe, is a worse feeling than any goodbye could be. I think that might be why I'm not ready to leave yet; I haven't said goodbye to everyone I want to, and I'm running out of time. If I could get all of them back in that overcrowded pavilion again, it would make it much easier and quicker on everyone. Alas, I have started my life as a poor college student early, and renting spaces for parties costs money.

The best I can do right now, I suppose, is to keep making plans and hoping they stick. Of course, I will probably be giving everyone my new address again, and then posting it on Facebook, just in case I forgot anybody. They all mean too much to me to leave them behind. And how could I let all those thank you notes to go to waste?