I should start by saying I don't know what I've done for God to bless me with these new people in my life. Genuinely, this is the life I'd hoped mine would become, and I'm astonished that it is finally here. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed, but the question is who or what can actually stop me in my tracks?

Within my first week at college, I came across an interesting person, who I'll refer to as K, (who gave me permission to write this) that led me to consider: Why do we chose to hold on to our pain? Holding on to a burning rope or a throny rose seems to be the most normal thing to do at times when the most simple solution is to let go. We normalize ourselves with tragedy.

Our correspondence began as she noticed my absent-minded, scatter-brain personality. I had to explain to her that I suffer from anxiety. Forgetting to take my medication literally short-circuits my brain and I can be eccentric at times. K stated that she suffered from Psychosis. Immediately, I was relieved to know that I wasn't the only one dealing with a mental disorder and she wouldn't think I was crazy. Our mental states were our common ground that easily became her security blanket as truths began to pour out of her wounds over the next four days. The next thing I learned was that she had a hint of actual OCD where she had to paint her nails and redo them each night.

K is a introvert and would keep to herself most of the time while everyone else was busy meeting each other. I preferred being alone so I understood when she told me she liked being alone. However, when I listened to her, what differed was that she stayed alone because she considered herself "awkward" and she wasn't really used to making friends. Again, I understood and tried to reassure her. Conversation is usually the worst, and I really don't know how I end up making friends. K's secret weapon was excuses that she exuded unconsciously. She prepared many excuses for why she didn't want to hang out along with me and my friends. She usually ended with a medical ailment. A while back she broke her face in a ATV accident which is why she couldn't do motion activities like jumping off piers, riding bikes, or diving in pools. She suffered from Anemia so she couldn't be outside and she couldn't run because of her overly-stretched limbs or respiratory problems. She suffered from many other problems that most of the time I found hard to believe, but I believed her anyways because she hadn't given me a reason not to.

In the past she had a passion for swimming and "couldn't" anymore. I live with the idea that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for and have hundreds of thousands years of history to back up or fortitude, so I wouldn't have her believing she was helpless. With more pestering she explained her fear was too strong to make her do physical things. I wondered: was it more painful to say you are unable to do something or to have a paralyzing fear that prevented you from doing so? Was it easier for her to say she couldn't do something than to receive the results?

Anyways, K would stay to herself while we were out all hours of the day and insisted she was working while we were meeting new people. It was normal for some people to stick to themselves but I know the secret feeling of rejecting someone before they do it to you. I knew how fear convinces you not to do something you'd later regret not doing.

K shared with me the details of her parent's divorce that she deals with at home. The uprooting of her family is due to the alcoholism of her father. She told me that her father had punched her in the face. I had witnessed a phone call about her father cutting her mother's shoes, throwing them in the aquariums. K hates alcohol but has tried mostly every other drug - illegal or not. At first I didn't know why she was telling me this, but I listened anyways as I was sure the reasoning behind her candor would reveal itself.

We started hanging out because she didn't want to be alone while she stressed about her father. This is how I knew her shyness wasn't all due to her personality. Her mother had called her about how her father had threatened to kill himself. I considered my deepening pile of school work as I left with her. We walked to CVS where she indulged for forty-five minutes in nail polish as she further divulged information. She was a girl who had turned to drugs to make the pain go away, or to feel normal again. I liked learning about her and appreciated times where my mind could just be still even though I was happy to get home.

The next day, I was captivated in my work when she convinced me to join her to take care of errands and to see her father. I enjoyed most of our time together, but I was constantly pressed to choose her over my other friends, because I often worried about her. I didn't want the only reason we spent time together to be because I was worried about her. A common bait for my 'hero complex' would be the phrase "I don't want to be alone." I was there for security even though I questioned who would secure myself.

She drove deeper into her past as I was in the passenger seat (literally and figuratively). As the sun keeled over she told me she suffered from anorexia and had suffered two abortions. At times I questioned my responsibilities but I realized it was just to listen. She came so far, she deserved someone to just listen. She spoke to avoid awkwardness but what her mind was full of was her past. She underestimated the pain we had in common. She most definitely wasn't alone. I often got scared that she would think I was too normal if I didn't speak of my problems, because as far as I was concerned, they were gone (for now). I stayed quiet often wondering what it was about myself that made her release this information. In my silence I found comfort in her. I had hoped she felt just as relieved in talking as I felt honored witnessing her vulnerability. This was the first time I wasn't the one being vulnerable and I didn't know how to handle it.

Moments when we were alone we found we had more things in common as we shared more interests and stories. As I became acquainted with her vulnerability - her past - I realized it mirrored my own past that I thought I had left at home. Even though the details were different, I often lost whose voice was actually speaking, who was controlling the wheel. To see her was to see my own past, but quickly this feeling was eliminated. A few errands tripled as her excitement rose. Secretly, I mulled over the time but I was as excited as she was to meet her family. She spoke often of her families (hers and her boyfriend's). She made me meet all of these amazing people.

Her boyfriend's house was the most expensive house I think I've ever been in, but that wasn't what was valuable. I engaged with heartening talk that comforted my small whims of homesickness. I didn't think meeting all of her boyfriend's siblings were necessary but I engaged with one about Black Ops, we related when we discovered we both preferred Advanced Warfare. Her best friend (which was her boyfriend's sister) gave me a Adderral as a gift?

And her 'alcoholic' father that she was so desperate yet apprehensive to see had shown murals in the inside of his beach house, possessed lego sculptures and the world's finest pens he himself had made. She showed me his personal collection of vinyls and CDs, hand-built aquariums. I came to realize her whole family was eccentric but was the root of her beautiful character. By the time we were back at campus I had regret being so anxious in the beginning. In fact, she was often waiting for me to say goodbyes. The few people she had, she kept them close and loved them hard. I just didn't understand why she didn't venture out more. I choose to take advantage of the potential to meet life changing people.

With the different things she told me, I was stunned that she still allowed these horrible things to follow her to college. The weight of her past visibly strained her shoulders. It is easier said than done to let go of your past. I just don't understand how you couldn't want something different from the depression that follows. My medication suppresses my cynical thoughts so I know how it seems like they are no other options but to wallow. I know how your mind can disguise fabrications as your reality. You could see the stiff pain emanating off of her from her nimble shoulders, as she chose to be alone. I desperately wanted her to come with me, but since I was a introvert at heart, I didn't force her. When she left to rejuvenate herself with her families, I often wondered how she fared. How could I care this much about someone I've known for not even a week? Even though I had known her for a week, with the things she told me, I've known her longer. Her vulnerability had caught me like a hook, comforted me and anchored me like a sinker. I just didn't want her past to sink her.

I often vented about K to my friends and their interests peaked. One friend at the time said she had gotten a weird vibe from her. Her explanation was dim and delicate and rubbed me many wrong ways It crushed me as I heavily defended her. A shot at her was a shot to me. I told her you don't get to judge someone based off of my words, not until you meet her. This is when I realized I wasn't the only one receptive to her pain.

Later that night she found me in a friend's room. When they did hear her, conversations ignited but it was hard to keep them aflame. Most of the time she whispered so when no one responded she repeated that she had homework to do, it was painful. More people came in the room and pandemonium manifested. Even I din't want to be in that room.So she left and soon I followed. I begged her to give my quieter friends a chance.

And a hour later she joined me along with quieter friends in their room. She came to prove me wrong. We had previously debated her supposed breast size, that were actually bigger than they appeared. She was self conscious about her body and had confused her hip bones along with skin with muffin tops. After we complimented her amazing body, she slowly made her way around the room, dissipating into conversation. As time went by, I lost track of where she was.. She was enjoying herself, and I didn't have to worry, my dream came true. I thought it was impossible to get her to open up to others as she did with I. So to see this girl transforming like this gives me hope for the bad times to come, for the both of us. Just to see her outside of her comfort zone, doing the things she said she "couldn't" do as days go past these things were becoming things she was willing to do. Some days she was asking us to go out. I guess when I asked her why she chose to hold onto her pain. She truly asked herself that question. I don't expect her fears to disappear over night but I will be here to remind her.

The day of the block party, my focus was on free food and to jump on the bouncy house, I actually didn't get to either of those things. Most of my friends regularly enjoyed parties, even the ones who didn't enjoy people. I assumed that it would be K and I spending time in our rooms, I quickly realized I was wrong. The block party was in our dorm parking lot. As the party erupted K was gone.... to dance. When I finally met up with the rest of my friends- amongst the dancing crowd-they were salsa dancing. Most of the time I remained solitary as people gyrated around me. A part fo me wished I could enjoy it, but I knew contentment shouldn't be forced. I spent the night shuffling through my friends-checking on them- to symbiotically fill up the void that was growing inside of me. I realized by checking up on them, I was saving myself. Throughout all of my knightly endeavors I was saving myself also. I do believe that you find yourself in other people, and well, I'm still finding myself.

I found K and we found ourselves in another acquaintance's room. They were vaping (legally), which was another trick K had under her belt. Within minutes the room was blanketed with water vapor. I felt misplaced being that I didn't vape, but I didn't let it bother me.

With the other acquaintances, we connected with music- it was playing- and we shared various artist names.

Later on one of the roommates came, and offered to smoke weed. There wasn't enough room but still mostly everyone left, including K. I didn't mind but I was concerned as she said she had stopped smoking to preserve her singing voice. Even now, I don't know if she actually smoked or not. When everyone was gone, I worried that maybe I had pushed her too far. I was scared that maybe she thought this is what she had to do to bond with people.

I thought about myself-In a room full of water vapor with people outside partying. Was I pushing myself to far? Will I lose myself between the lines of living life or not living enough, Will I end up going over the edge? I am playing Russian roulette with my comfort zone in a college environment like this. I seen K the next day and everything was okay, regarding the smoking-whether she did it or not- I realized that it truly didn't matter. Life isn't supposed to be a simple road, we are meant for mistakes, and for things to definitely not go our way. We find ourselves and we are here to make sure we stay on the road even as we change courses. In times when she need it, I serve as the gears while K is the face of a clock. Some days(Most days) she serves as a metronome to keep me going, and to maintain pace as I perform my song of life.

Most days I wonder what it was about myself that made her decide to open up. I realize I'll probably never find out because it is something that isn't supposed to be found. I just know that whatever that quality is, I cherish it dearly, as it is in these moments that I truly find pieces of myself.