One year ago, I heard about Wagner College for the first time
One year before that, I didn't think I even wanted to go to college.
Before that, I thought I'd never get over my first boyfriend.
And before that, life was perfect. High school had just started and my school hadn't been blown away by a tornado.
One year before that, I was the coolest. I'd just gotten contacts and I was officially past training bras.
One year before that, I giggled my way through the human reproductive system section in biology.
One year before that, I was ugly. My wire-rimmed glasses and chin-length hair gave me a boyish appearance that I still cringe at.
One year before that, I was resentful. I wore a school uniform for the first time and wanted to die every time I looked in the mirror.
One year before that, I picked up the clarinet for the first time and I never believed my mother would actually move me to Alabama.
One year before that, black and white were just colors in the crayon box and I never knew why I couldn't walk home from school alone.
One year before that, I was introduced to jazz music.
One year before that, my mom asked me "do you want to live with mom or dad?"
One year before that, I started elementary school.
One year before that, the only thing that was on my mind was getting my daddy to carry me on his shoulders. I thought my dog was immortal, hated when my brother touched my stuffed animals, wanted to be a ballerina, and ate a lot of pasta and so on and so forth.

Eighteen years later, I still eat a lot of pasta and have finally realized that I cannot be a ballerina and, despite his muscles, my dad can no longer carry me on his shoulders. I still question why anyone would have trusted me to answer the question of which parent. I know that that introduction to jazz may have been the most subtly life-changing day of my life. I witness every day the meaning of "black and white." I believe that moving to Alabama was for the best, even if it's not where I belong. I still believe that school uniforms are the most atrocious modern-day affliction of the adolescent individual. I know that everyone was a little ugly when they were eleven. I am more disgusted than flustered by the reproductive system. I wish I could have stuck with training bras. I have suppressed the memories of my post-tornado high school and everything that occurred in that semester. I barely remember my first boyfriend. I question college despite the fact that I am here, yet know I am blessed to be at Wagner.
Every year is another mile of senseless knowledge and thoughts that seems to take 10 years to complete but feels like only 10 days once it's over. I still don't really know anything, but I do know that I would trade everything I know now to return to eighteen years ago.
I sound like every other cliche out there about time passing and people growing older, but that's because I am understanding this more now than ever before. With every year that passes, I will gain a little more knowledge about how bizarre and dissatisfying it is to grow up.