written in whiteboard markers on the mirror

So what do you do when you can see everything going wrong?  When you can feel your life unraveling?  When you can just watch your friends pull away from you?  When you know for a fact that your life is a mess but you can't control it any more?  And then you realize that you don't even like the person you've become.

What then?


And when I look into the mirror
Everything seems clearer
Because I can't stand the face
Looking back at me.
And all along
I realize I've been wrong
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

And when I'm sitting in the quiet
I feel like I'm lying
'Cause I keep telling myself
It'll be okay.
But this time I know
That it's impossible
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

And when you're standing here beside me
The only thing that I see
Is that deep down you just can't
Wait to get away.
And now I'm so alone
From no fault but my own
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

Yeah, it's me that I've hated
And not you.

ain't nothing like the first time

Coming into my second year, a knew that some things would be different, but I didn't realize quite how much.  I thought the second time around was going to be just like the first.  Well, maybe not exactly like it, but kind of like an iPhone update: essentially the same, but slightly better with a little bit newer look.  I thought that it wouldn't be that big of a transition.  After all, the big one is leaving high school and going to college, right?  It's not hard coming back for a second year, is it?  At least for me, it's not true.  Round two was just as difficult of a change for me as round one--if not even more. 

You see, when I stepped foot on this campus to begin the second quarter of my journey, everything seemed the same.  There were a few aesthetic differences--the cool new STEM building was finished, and all that awful construction equipment and fences were gone--but it was the same beautiful school it had always been.  And even the smells and the weather and the things going on seemed the same as last year, but everything else was not the same.

Because now, in this weird new thing for me called sophomore year, I walk through all the places that once had meaning for me , but all I find now is the memories of what once was.  I walk through my freshman hall and it's supposed to be Uganda, not Mexico or whatever Hispanic country it is now.  It's supposed to be Taylor and Ely's hall, and I'm supposed to live in it!  Look at what these freshman did to our room!  It's not all perfect like it used to be.  It was only perfect when me and Sam and Lauren lived in it.  It used to house me and my roommates and all my wonderful hallmates and friends, and now. . .it's just filled with a bunch of strangers.  And I'm freaking out a little bit, because I realize that never again am I going to call room number 135 my home.  I'll never come up the stairs under the archway, turn right, jump down the small set of stairs, and then enter that first room on the right ever again, unless I'm doing something crazy like visiting a freshman.  And I won't ever have this same group of people living together in this setting ever again because we got old and we all know that upperclassman dorms' atmosphere sucks.  And I can't even stand to walk through that hall anymore because I realize that the good times we had in this room, in this hall, in this dorm, are gone and THEY'RE NEVER COMING BACK. 

The first week that the freshman came was just one big flashback to last year, when I got to actually participate in all the OB activities.  With every event, I relived what I did and how I felt just one year ago.  I remember so vividly  how I felt during that first week or so at college, even though the experiences themselves were kind of a blur.  I remember on the night of the graffiti dance, I came from a meeting that all the freshman athletes had to attend, so all the soccer players walked over together and showed up fashionably late.  I hung out with Colin, Dan, Nate, and Sam the whole night, and felt so cool because I already knew people, whereas most freshmen were just meeting people for the first time.  I danced in the dance-off, and felt great because I had the nerve to do it and people cheered for me even though I looked pretty dumb.  I remember thinking that college was already making me more outgoing and crazy than I already was--if that's even possible. 

But now, that's all over for me.  I walk past the graffiti dance with some of the cross country girls on the way to the parking lot and I can't help but feel sad.  The other girls talk about how good it is not to be a freshman and how awkward the graffiti dance was, but I say nothing because I actually feel nostalgic about it.  But what's wrong with me?  I'm supposed to be having a good time, not reminiscing about last year!  Everything is supposed to be good right now: I'm going out with some of the older cross country girls to get brownies at Elephant Castle late at night after a good workout earlier that day.  I have friends, I'm being included in the team, I'm doing fun and spontaneous things at night, and I feel good about how I've been doing at preseason camp.  But I still miss last year more than anything else.

And it's not just the freshman activities--it's everything!  Every day is not complete unless I run through a list of everything I did exactly a year ago.  That Monday, I think about how I had to leave the Hoedown Throwdown early and run across the rainy campus to get to a paperwork meeting for track.  The next day, I remember waking up early to meet Nathan, my new-found running buddy, and having that 7 am Tuesday/Thursday run become my routine for the first month or so of the semester.  I'm not even able to live in the here-and-now because I compare every last thing I do to what I did last year.  And everything is different and I just can't deal with it.

Why do I have such a problem?  Why do I miss last year so much even though many aspects of my life are actually better this time?  I have such deep, wonderful friendships, yet somehow I miss the stage of meeting new people and feeling cool when a lot of them remember my name.  I have a wonderful cross country team that is so encouraging and helps me to do my best, yet for some reason I miss the days last year when I could run whenever I wanted to and nobody told me how far I had to go.  I know my schedule, my routine, and much more about the college this year, yet I still miss trying to figure everything out for the first time.  I have so much--but it's not the same as last year.

AND IT FREAKS ME OUT BECAUSE NOTHING WILL BE THE SAME EVER AGAIN AND NOTHING I DO IS EVER GOING TO CHANGE THAT.  Because even though this time around is so much better in many ways, it still can't compare to the first time.  Because nothing's ever as good as the first time.  As Watsky so perfectly puts it in his fantastic (but slightly inappropriate) poem, "Nothing Like the First Time,"

"But a word of warning:

The first time tends to make the bad times worse. . .

. . . After all, there's nothing like the first time.

The first time's always perfect."

And that's just it.  There ain't nothing like the first time.  My first round here at college may not have been the easiest, prettiest, or most exciting year, but because it was the first time, it was perfect.  And no year after is ever going to compare to that.