I ran back to my dorm. Correction; I raced back to my dorm. The sky had the mood of rain. Thousands of minuscule rain drops spat at my face, mocking me, as I tried to hold back the thunderstorm that was forming in the back of my eyes. Bubbles of oxygen try to enter my throat. I felt that suckle of fear nipping the back of my spine, making its way up through my trachea, bounce through my naval cavity- shocking my brain, ultimately triggering the appropriate emotional reaction; panic, fear, and sadness. Once safely tucked away in a secluded corner of my room, I let it all out. Buckets of tears poured out of my swollen eyes and puddles formed on the ground around me. For hours, I sat in a wet ditch of salty tears and human misery.

Oceans of tears and hurricanes of exasperated breaths gushed into my mom’s phone. I could hear the sighs of despair my mom let out through my heaving gasps and pants. I don’t remember how long I sat there crying into my phone. No words were spoken on my behalf for an extended period of time. I did not need to talk, the gallons of tears bursting out of my tear ducts did all the talking for me.

“Sweetie”, my mom finally broke the silence with a soft tone, “ Do you need to talk to someone, you know your proctors are always there to tell you words of wisdom…”.

Well what were they going to tell me, I thought to myself? That I had no reason for being upset? That I was overreacting? That everything was going to be okay?

How could I be okay? I had just entered a new world.; a world in which the ivy that covers the century-old walls pulls tightly at your morality and judgment. A world in which children and adults alike were motivated by the powerful aroma of prestige. Welcome to boarding school. A four-year-long sanctuary for exceptional teenagers to improve their already amazing academic results and sports performances; all with the goal of eventually landing you in a JCrew U.

That night as I went to sleep, I looked up at the pin board above my bed.  I thought it was a great idea to have pictures of my friends and family but all it was doing was making me miss the more. I missed my best friend and I missed my mom, I missed my sisters and I missed my old life.  My mind pictured all the things I was missing out on. I wanted to rip the pictures apart, tear them, break them, until there was nothing left of the small fragments of love, laughter and hope each picture represented. However, I could not bring myself tear the pictures up, for if I were to, I would be destroying the small amount of hope I still had that one day I could possibly return to that life. The life I so badly longed for.