The semester is coming to a close and it’s almost time to pack my bags and leave the dorm – the place I used to call home for a handful of months. This will be my last blog post that has any form of relation to my writing class and it feels…strange. I remember coming into school, nervous, like a puppy awaiting its new owner after months of being in a shelter. Now, I’m much more confident in myself and I’m no longer the shy little hermit crab that hides in its shell when someone nears them. I can express my thoughts, not only to my peers, but to the professors that I meet. 

My life in university was a roller coaster, and it still is. It escalated quickly to the climax in a matter of days, and it fell just as fast as it rose, leaving me breathless and screaming for help. Help came in the form of a variety of people – students my age, a year older, and even professors that have decades more of experience than I do. Regardless of age, ethnicity, and morals, all who came to my aid lifted me up and it feels nice to have people who are there for me. 

I know I mentioned earlier about a flower pot and someone who sprinkles it with water. I hope, next semester when I return, that I can learn a lot more and be both the flower pot and water to see both sides of the picture. I want to grow like a sunflower, tall and mighty.