You did it. You got into a program. You find comfort knowing deep down you triumphed over all those basic bitches.
You attend orientation and try and make friends with everyone. You secretly keep tabs on who looks the weakest.
After a few weeks or so you find that you only have room for one friend in the program and you will protect them with your life. No one else gets in your posse.
The semester kicks in and you start to feel a little unsure if this was the right choice for you.
Self pep talks become a regular thing and you cling to any hope you once had about making it in one piece.
Family and friends try to ensure you that its temporary and will be worth it in the long run.
First you react to their naivety with tears...
...then with anger.
Any sense of fashion you once had has died.
You are ferocious when a friend tells you they're considering Grad School.
You are convinced this is the end. Your seclusion is your safe haven and you've started writing "remember to eat" in your planner.
Assignments keep piling up.
Finals week has arrived...
...and a friend asks if you want to do something social.
Then finals come to a close. You've made it. Hasta La Vista, fools.
...until you realize you have summer classes and another year left.
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