that holds all your memories: a lifetime of crushes and your broken dreams:

For eighteen years of my life, I wanted nothing more than to get out of Hannibal. That pathetic excuse of a town, where for eighteen years I was unhappy. Miserable even. Friends were hard to come by, and when you got a friend you could just as easily lose them to another person. You went to school with the exact same people since you were kindergarten, give or take a few moves (one of which happened to be my best friend in the whole world, but that's another story).

A year ago, if you would have asked me to leave Hannibal, it wouldn't have taken me more than a few hours to have my life packed away and in a car, ready to follow wherever you wanted to lead me. A year ago, I wanted to skip my senior year altogether. I hated it in Hannibal, and I made that apparent to everyone around me.

A year ago, however, I would have never imagined the life that I'm living right now. A year ago, I sincerely believed I'd be going to a community college. Not for lack of smarts, but for lack of... trying? I'll be perfectly honest. I didn't pick up books in high school because I didn't care. I didn't study for tests or read assignments because it simply did. Not. Matter. Or at least, not to me.

I applied to Mizzou because I wanted it more than anything, but it was mostly a sick dream of mine. I didn't sincerely believe I would get in. Look at my straight-C average GPA. I didn't have what they wanted. Even with my 24 ACT score, I wasn't the girl they wanted. Not at all.

And every day, I would check the mail. And every day, I would wait for that letter that would tell me I wasn't going. Because they didn't want me. I wasn't good enough. I wouldn't make it into this college. Because, they didn't care how much I wanted it, or how much it meant to me. They cared about my grades, and my ACT score. And while my ACT score was good enough to get me in, my grades weren't. Not at all.

Then, just a day after I'd given up and turned in my application for the community college, the very day that I was packing up everything in my house to move to my new house, I walked in the door and saw a letter on the counter. From: University of Missouri - Columbia. To: Marena Kristine Niehoff. Office of Admissions.

And my heart stopped.

I wish I could say that I started jumping around the instant I saw the letter. That I was so estatic knowing I got in before I even opened the letter. But I wasn't. I remember looking at that letter and going "Oh, not today. Please, any day but TODAY." But before I could tuck that away, my Mom had snatched it off the counter and had ripped it open. I remember watching her every facial expression, just waiting for her to find the words to tell me that I didn't get it. But, instead. She grabbed me and hugged me. And informed me that, yeah, I did get in.

And for months, I was estatic. I packed and I bragged and I bought things for my dorm. I prepared myself for college, both physically and emotionally. I couldn't wait to leave. Had it counted down to the day that I'd be leaving. I couldn't wait. I would tell everyone that I only had so many weeks left in Hannibal. In that shithole of a town.

And then, in August, something clicked. I clung to my Mom, rarely wanting her out of my sight. I wanted to be with her as much as possible. And let's be honest. I got scared. Terrified. I wanted to stay in Hannibal, all of a sudden. I wanted to stay a little girl forever and never go away. And the closer it got to the moving day, the more scared I was. The more clingy. The more I needed home.

August 18th, 2009 was by far the hardest day of my life. It's a strange feeling seeing your life packed into the back of a truck. To drive away from your home, out of city limits and knowing you won't be back for a few weeks. And even then, you'll only be back long enough to blink. And while it was the hardest day of my life, it was also one of the best. Because all of my fears had to be faced, dead on. I had to leave my mom, and allow myself to be in this strange place, relatively alone.

And you know what? It wasn't bad. It was great, actually. It still is amazing. Every day is this incredible experience to me. I'm learning so much. For the first time in my life, I'm pushing myself to work. To learn. To study. To make friends. And you know what? I'm happy. I love it here. I love being here. I love the people that I surround myself with. Mizzou was, and continues to be, the best decision I ever made for myself. And while it was hard, I'm so immensely glad I did it. I did this for myself. And I'm going to be a better person for this.

And while, for eighteen years of my life, I couldn't wait to get out of Hannibal, there's a piece of my heart that's still there. And will always be there. Hannibal is where I grew up. It's where I went to school. Where I learned to walk, and talk, and fall in and out of love. It's where I experienced heartbreak, embarrassment, and death. It's where I met my best friend, where I had my first kiss. There's a piece of me that will always be there, with my memories. With my family.

Tomorrow, I go home for the first time since I left. And I can't begin to tell you how estatic I am for that. I can't wait to see my family. My house. And if there's anything I've learned more strongly in the last couple of weeks, it's that as hard as leaving is, it makes going home even bettter.