The idea of moving always sent shivers down my spine. Whether it's moving into a bigger bedroom in the same house or moving across a vast ocean, moving is evocative. First the feelings of despair and fear race through my head. What will become of me in my new room, or even new life? Then, the memories of things that I once did suddenly flood through my head and it becomes apparent I took too much for granted in the time I was given. When I was a young child, I was so accustomed to my tiny bed that when I had outgrown it, I literally thought I was going to perish because there were no familiar bars around my new bed. Since then, I have gone through several beds and rooms but my fear of change still stuck with me. This summer, when I was told I would move to a competitive suburban school in Cleveland, Ohio from a rural, countryside school, I felt traumatized. Traumatized that I would have no friends. Traumatized that I would fail in a competitive environment. But when I arrived in late August, I was very fortunate enough to be quickly accepted and actually loved all my classes. After a few months of observing life from a more cosmopolitan perspective, I have come to the following conclusion: the legacy of my fears and doubts of moving is that I have learned that moving is to be expected, even hoped for in life. I have learned that it is so important to be true to myself by moving away from childish prejudices and accepting life's lessons. Thus, either physically or mentally, everyone moves. But whether we are willing or not, moving changes us for the better at the end of the day.