I have begun the scary work of gradually packing up my room for college, as my plans for August are not yet finalized and I don't know if I will be at home much before I start classes. Looking at each item and asking myself "Is it necessary?" "Is it cool?" "Is this something that will fit in my room?" has caused me so much stress.

I wonder whether my Superman pajamas are too juvenile. If I should bring my X Files poster, or if that's too cliched. I stare at my bookshelf and closet, knowing that there will be things I bring to college left untouched and other things I'll have to call my mom and ask her to FedEx to me. Although my college is only an hour and a half from my house, I still worry. What if it's two am and I'm crying and just need Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to get me through it?

What if my room is too cluttered? Although I have minimized my book collection, papers, and clothes in the last year, I am still someone with a large bedroom and hoarder-like tendencies. I don't know how to live long-term with another person. I sleep for a ridiculous amount of time per night, need coffee and a podcast before I can talk to anyone in the morning, and spend most of my time in only an oversize t-shirt. I've been raised mostly as an only child, in the countryside. I love the room I have carefully curated over the last few years. I am not built to live in a dorm.

Honestly, I'm terrified about the fall. I'm scared of not liking the dining hall food. I'm scared of liking the dining hall food too much, and the gym not enough. I'm scared I'll fail out of my classes. I'm scared that I won't make friends, or I'll make the wrong friends. I'm scared that my roommate will be a sex addict, or even just someone who smells really bad. I'm scared I'll miss my parents and cat too much and just cry all the time. College is a lot to worry about.

So, instead, I sit in my room and pick it apart, piece by piece. In the spare room, I pile up the things I won't be using until the fall. My extra-long twin sheets, my sweaters, copies of certain books. I scroll through Target and Home Goods' websites. It gives me a small, much-needed feeling of control.