At seventeen years old, you are not allowed to work with sharp machinery, get married, buy tobacco, vote on the future of your country, own land, or hold your own medical records. In some states, seventeen isn’t even the age of consent. But somehow, at seventeen, as a senior in high school, I was expected to make a life altering decision: where I would go to college.

The American Musical and Dramatics Academy was my dream school.

Performing arts conservatory.

World Class Faculty

New York City

And a staggering tuition bill: $45,000 a year.

I spent two thousand five hundred and seven hours agonizing over the cost. Two thousand five hundred and seven hours trying to find a way to make AMDA viable. I looked grants, loans, waivers, sponsors... I even looked into selling my organs. Applying for scholarships became my life... but nothing panned out. I continued to come up empty handed.

I grew up with that saying “when one door closes, another one opens,” and I always thought it was corny and cliche. But I tend to think the universe was forcing me to close the door on AMDA. After months of fighting with and for the school, I was exhausted, frustrated, and emotionally burnt out.

At the final advisory meeting of my high school career, my guidance counselor asked where I had decided to go in the fall. Before I had a chance to second guess myself, I answered her. "Plymouth State University."

Plymouth State University was the last school on my list of six. It was the back-up plan to back up back-up plans. It was too close to home, too small, too familiar. Truth was, I was running from my past. I wanted a fresh start.

But that didn’t happen.

I paid my deposit for Plymouth State. My safety school, only half an hour away from the town where I grew up.

I was determined to hate it there.

But that little town and it's people made it impossible not to fall in love. Every day I find new things about Plymouth that I adore. Where else could I watch movies under the stars, float the Pemi in 70 degree weather, or go ice skating for free on the weekends? From movie screenings on Mary Lyon Lawn, to Mandarin takeout with my roommates, to camping out under my bed with my best friend, Plymouth has come to feel like home to me. I moved to Plymouth and I found my family; I found my home.

I belong here.

In your senior year of high school, everything is uncertain.

In college, a lot of things are still uncertain... but if you're lucky, you've find where you belong, and you've found a support system for life.