house of Laine

I Don’t Think Anyone Warns You About Becoming Yourself

Everyone tells you college will be the best years of your life.

Either everyone lied, or I’m doing it wrong.

I’m about to finish my freshman year, and to say it’s been a disaster would honestly be generous. Since October alone, I’ve had mono twice, been dumped over the phone, ended up in the ER multiple times, gotten accused of cheating on a paper I didn’t cheat on, withdrawn from a class, and received my first ever C. Which, for the record, was a personal attack.

Somehow, this all took place in a tiny coastal town that feels permanently trapped in 1980, alongside roommates who deserve their own separate post entirely.

And through all of it, everyone still expects me to act normal. Go to class. Answer texts. Smile politely. Pretend my life isn’t actively imploding over an $8 iced coffee.

The strangest part about growing up is realizing nobody actually knows what they’re doing. Some people are just better at curating the illusion.

This blog exists because I’m tired of pretending every “character-building experience” is secretly beautiful while it’s happening. Sometimes things are just humiliating. Or unfair. Or ridiculous in a way that would almost be funny if it wasn’t your life.

So consider this my official documentation of the chaos.

Names will be changed because unlike some people, I do believe in journalistic integrity.

But the stories?
Unfortunately true.

Welcome to House of Laine.

my girlhood, unfiltered