Now, comes the second semester.

College had become an entire new war zone. My schedule wasn’t as hectic as it was during my first semester as a college freshman, but there were trials along the way.

Time management was one of them. I had slipped into lazy mode, a college freshman’s worse nightmare. College is a different kind of playground, my friends -- if you slip up on an exam, there are no make-ups. No bullshitting through class discussions -- when you are called on, you better have an intelligent answer ready to blow away the professor that controls your grade. I started hanging out with my friends more than usual, I no longer spent nights in the study room, but in friends’ dorm rooms or at Cranberry’s, just fooling around or even hanging out watching Netflix and Teen Wolf reruns with a couple of friends.

The invitations to slack off kept pouring in, and the only wakeup call to reality I had was myself. No one was pushing me to do better, to succeed, or to meet a certain deadline. I was completely on my own in the responsibility department. I was losing the dedication I had, the vision I had for my future because it started to dim and fade against the harsh light of a life on my own. The first semester had seemed more like an entire school year, rather than four months. It was like the motivation to strive to the top of the class had been drained out of me. I had put too much of my time and effort into first semester, I thought that I could keep going, keep punching out A’s and B’s like a pro, but I was wrong.

I started to fall behind.

I fell especially far behind on reading assignments, and often ended up leaving them to the last minute. I still remember the sleepless nights when I only had an hour of sleep before going to class the next morning. It was a constant struggle. Even essays were put at the bottom of priority pile and were written three hours before they were due. I can’t tell you how much bullshit was stuffed into those papers.

Another distraction I had to confront was boys.

I won’t lie, I had a fair share of romances in my nineteen year old life, but college was ridiculous. Whether it was my friends having trouble with boys, or me, it was all centered around the useless subject of love. I didn’t realize I had all the time in the world to date, to do everything I ever wanted to dom after I finished college. I let myself fall through the cracks with a few pretty words because, at the time, college was crushing my self-esteem -- so I let someone pick me up from the mess I was in. I was constantly studying during the first semester, so it was nice to take a break now and then and let someone else take care of me -- so I took their outstretched hand. Plus, while dealing with my own issues, I had to help some friends out with theirs, and trust me, college was full of a lot of firsts and lasts. Some of my friends actually learned the meaning of “Netflix and Chill” during the second semester, and my role as the advice giver and listener expanded.

However, despite the drama, the romances and the backed up pile of deadlines, I grew out of my high school shell. I was still a little shy; I was still the quiet girl, but I made a ripple of sound in the silence I use to drown myself in. I used to be afraid of trying new things, afraid of overstepping the boundaries I made for myself when I was a freshman in high school. I promised myself I would never do certain things, but what I really did was chain myself to cruel limitations. It wasn’t that I was afraid to end up like the dropouts or crazy girls in my graduating senior class; I was afraid to stand out. I was afraid to be who I was, and decided to put a wall between me and the world. I would never let anyone see the real me that slept within the quiet girl, and I would always try to keep her silent. However, during my second semester, I was able to give who I really was a little breathing room, a little bit of sun.

I still have some chains locked around my heart, around who I truly am, but I’m learning to unlock them and gradually break free from the steel prison I made for myself. It’s hard to step out of who you were and change into who you were meant to become.

Yet the second semester gave me a head start to letting the quiet girl go.

I learned to let the old me go.