A little less than a year ago I was sat on my futon in my freshman year dorm, probably watching Pitch Perfect for the third time, crying on the phone to my mom.

"Mom, I can't be here anymore"

"You should come home this weekend then"

"No, I can't be here anymore"

I was in the second semester of my freshman year at Loyola at this time, about mid-March. That night I made the decision to transfer, and my mom gave me her blessing to do so. I usually don't tell people I meet at Purdue that I'm a transfer student anymore. I think at some point, when you get really comfortable with where you are it doesn't really matter. I assume that one day when I'm a bit older, no one will give a crap about where I went to school, let alone how long I was there for.

I think it's always a little strange telling people my story simply because transferring from one 4-year university to another is rare. I guess transferring schools isn't a big deal if you're a Division-1 athlete, or if you're moving from a two year degree to a four year one, but I am neither of those things. My only reason for transferring is that I made a mistake, and I rushed into accepting an admissions offer before I knew what I really wanted.

The truth is, both schools kick ass when it comes to academics. But when it comes to everything else, they're polar opposites. When it came down to accepting an admissions offer, it was between Loyola and Purdue. I was torn between the city lifestyle and the Big Ten atmosphere. In the end, the city won me over, and the handsome scholarship that LUC gave me. I made my decision before the second semester of my senior year.

I think my biggest issue is that I came into college thinking I was so ready to be on my own. In high school, I drooled over the day I could have the freedom that college promised. I became conditioned by pop-culture and stories that I've heard that college would automatically be some kind of oasis with an education like no other and freedom. I didn't consider how much I would miss the amazing, tight-knit group of best friends would leave behind. I didn't fully realize how dependent I was on my parents. I didn't appreciate how simple high school was compared to college. Maybe deep down I knew I wasn't ready, but I sure did pretend to be ready. The day my parents moved me in, I kicked them out before I had even unpacked my stuff because of independence.

I had great roommates, thankfully. One of them lived in the neighborhood a few minutes away, and the other came all the way from Texas. They are such kind and funny girls, so we were comfortable with each other right away. Classes were overwhelming at first, but I settled eventually. Everything seemed almost okay at first, but I have this terrible quality where almost isn't really enough for me.

I think the worst time of the day for me was past 4 o'clock. Loyola is a private school with a population of about 15,000 undergrads. Majority of these people do not live on campus, so when the end of classes and the weekend rolled around, the campus was dead (well, if you don't count the random lady shouting profanities and asking for money outside of my dormitory). No one was in the dining halls or hanging out in the quad. Which makes sense considering the campus was less than a mile in radius. Although it is a beautiful school, I didn't realize how much this would bother me.

Not to mention, I had made basically no friends by mid-semester. I found myself going home basically every weekend because my suburban home was only an hour train ride away and the campus being so empty depressed me. I was in a long-distance relationship at the time, so I went to visit him a lot. A lot of my friends stayed in our hometown after high school, so I hung out with them instead. I went to my best friend's state school most weekends and was amazed by how massive and lively it was compared to my school. I was constantly on the move, which exhausted me. Looking back on it, my loneliness was my own fault. The people I had managed to make acquaintanceship with at school, I never spent time with. They were so wonderful, but I never got a chance to actually click with them.

Near the end of my first semester, I tossed around the idea of transferring. I thought about just going to Illinois State because that was where my best friend was and I became so familiar with it at this point. My mom insisted that I tough it out for another semester, and I half-heartedly agreed.

That second semester I really, really tried. I didn't go home nearly as much and I got out into the city more. The more time I spent there, though, the more unhappy I became. I wasn't sure about anything I was doing, like what I was studying and where I was going to be for the next three years of my life. I didn't even think I wanted to continue college or anything at all. Everything I did just felt so forced. As time went on, I slept through a lot of my classes and through the afternoon. I went to the gym for hours simply because I was bored. I felt hopeless. Although, I had a rad, talented group of friends that semester. They let me into their little group of A Capella singers and musicians and made me feel more comfortable, but I always felt like I kind of intruded on something. That definitely wasn't the case, but I was doubting all facets of my life at this point. I owe them a lot for lifting me up back then, and if any of them are reading this: from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

So, that brings me back to the phone call with my mom. That night I started filling out applications to a handful of schools, all of them public universites. I waited to tell people I started the transfer process. The truth is, I was embarrassed. I felt like I let my family and friends down, but especially myself. Everyone else seemed to be thriving at their respective schools, why couldn't I? I felt like I was doing everything so wrong.

In the end, I was accepted to most of the schools I applied to. Whoop-de-doo. Getting accepted to schools isn't nearly as exciting the second time around. It was a tough decision, especially when I was considering potential majors, but I chose Purdue in the end.

The truth is, there's no right way to do college, my friends. Entrusting a decision that's worth thousands of dollars in tuition to a high school senior may seem like a good idea, but sometimes they are poor experts of such things, especially if they're me. People may argue that college is solely about getting an education, but when you're so far away from home, it's important to have some sort of social support system in place. I just couldn't find mine. I thought a small liberal arts institution was for me, when in the end I needed a big rah-rah school.

Here I am, a year later, writing for Odyssey at that big rah-rah school. It's been quite a learning experience, but I can definitely say that transferring was the best decision I have ever made for myself. I was at the absolute worst place of my life, but I've grown so much since then. I learned to make decisions for myself despite what people might think, I found what I want to study and am passionate about, I found an incredible group of friends that is Pi Beta Phi, and I have found incredible support from my family and friends. Maybe I would've been happy with any school I chose, but I can honestly say since I've come to this school I have not once felt alone.

Maybe you're reading this article because you're thinking about transferring, or maybe you're a high school senior about to make a huge decision, all I want you to know is this: it'll be okay. The world has so much to offer you, and you have so many opportunities for change. So do whatever makes you happy regardless of what people think. I was so embarrassed to be a transfer student at first, but it turns out that the things that you're most embarrassed about actually make you pretty interesting and unique to others, and it makes a great icebreaker during that first week of classes.