Saying goodbye to Zen was hard, but he took it well. My parents, on the other hand, were a different story. I'm an only child of a middle class family. In our humble abode, you'll find that on every wall, of every room, has pictures of only yours truly.
Tiny me in a tutu, less tiny me riding my bike, and so on. Their pride and joy was off to the Big scary Apple. Most parents drop their co-ed off and help them unpack. I reasoned with them that the overly emotional goodbye would cause a scene. Not that I didn't want them there, I do. I just want to feel independent more. My parents spent my entire life up until this point keeping me in a bubble. It's time to branch out and spread my wings. The fear in my gut isn't going away anytime soon. So I ignore it. I know I can do this.

They both stand at the car given to me for graduation, waiting to tell me goodbye. A used car, nothing glamourous, a Ford Focus actually. It's not a BMW, but it will get me where I need to go. Hopefully to New York anyway.
My dad helps me put the last moving box in the trunk, and doesn't seem very thrilled to close it. As if closing the trunk means goodbye forever. I halt and run into the house, into my bedroom, to find my lucky bracelet. A cotton string with ten tied knots, all in a row that Zen had made for me. He told me to touch each knot and count them when I felt the demon of anxiety starting to squeeze my chest. A simple gift, but unquestionably beautiful, given the thought behind it.
I take a minute to remember my room; the orange walls, scattered art supplies, my paintings in the closet, my trusty easel. . .
I get back to the car, and my parents are already crying. God, how will they manage while I'm I'm away? You would think I was dying.
"I've left money in your arm rest, and your panic attack medicine in the glove box." My dad soothes, as he hugs the life out of me, fighting back his tears. "Don't get too wild. I don't want to bring you back with a bun in the oven." He jokes. My mother stands quiet, not able to find her words. I guess it's just too hard for her. Instead, she hugs me and kisses my head. The usual. As I drive off, my left shoulder appears slightly out the window while I give them a wave goodbye. "I love you!" I shout out the window in the direction behind me and turn my eyes back to the road.

A breath I didn't know I was holding blows from my puffed cheeks. The steering wheel tightens in my grip. "I can do this." I tell myself before making my way on to the freeway.

Six hours later and I see the skyline of New York City. It's beautiful. I've never been so nervous and excited at the same time. All I can think about is being whoever I want to be without the glares of disappointment from small town nobody's.
And... I'm lost. I have no clue where in the hell I'm going. Every street looks the same as the last. Traffic is jammed, maybe driving was a bad idea.
After an hour, and multiple rude directions later, I'm finally parking on campus. I cut the engine, and take the biggest in breath of my life. "You can do this Clo, don't be a little bitch and chicken out." I tell myself, while reaching for my meds. I pop one in my mouth and swallow. My medication kicks in when I see dozens of students with their parents. The tightening in my chest begins to loosen and I can breathe.
I plant my foot for the first the first time in the city. The smell of gas fumes burns at my nose, but I ignore it. It's wonderful.
Finding the registration area wasn't hard. Following other wide-eyed freshman, I kept repeating "Follow the yellow brick road."
After what feels like my entire first semester, I approach a makeshift desk. A girl my age with long black hair sits at the metal folding table. Her skin is so pale it makes my eyes strain.
"Name?" she drones. "Chloe Thomas." I smile. Obviously wanting to be anywhere but here, she hands me a paper that reads:
Thomas, Chloe
Room 132: Women's Dormitory
I expected it to say more, but at least I know my room number. I hand the girl my class selection, and start walking away.
"Hey, you forgot something!" I hear from behind. I look around and a short Asian girl with black rim glasses and a bob runs over to me.
"You dropped your headphones." She tells me, displaying them in the air.
"Oh my God, thank you." I take them.
"I thought I secured them in my bag. I'm Chloe.", I reach my hand out to shake. She takes my hand like it's so fragile it may break.
"Names Kat, you're welcome. You're not from the city, are you? I can smell your innocence." She coughs out a laugh while I give my best southern raised offended lady impression. I can tell right away that we could be friends. The student clerk stomps over to us looking even more annoyed than before, and hands Kat her dorm paper. "Room 132, I hope my roommate this semester doesn't give me an attitude." Kat looks at her paper. Finally it clicks, "Wait, 132? That's my dorm number." I say with a little too much excitement.
Kat looks pleased too. "Okay then, cool. I think this could be good. Just don't give me any tude." She smirks. "We should probably go ahead and find our room though. These bags are heavy." I'm sure I stepped on five people's feet, navigating in Kat's tow in search of the women's dorms.