Last night, I slept on the couch of my empty college apartment. I had already moved all my stuff out the day before, and yet I still came back. I knew my keycard had one more day before it stopped working, so I thought “why not”? I’d much prefer to sleep somewhere familiar rather than the grungy carpeted floor of my new place, which was is still lightly dusted with cat hair from the previous tenant.
But this ended up being a big mistake. Because as I curled up on the couch of my now-empty college apartment, with a blanket I packed, in pajamas I walked over with, I felt the weight of every emotion from these last few weeks hit me all at once. Like a freight train. Or even the Titanic (I am the iceberg).
Suddenly, sitting in my LAST undergraduate apartment made everything feel too real, the emptiness making every emotion much clearer. It’s all over now. I thought to myself in the darkness. And even though I knew that things weren’t really “over”, I also knew that the memories that took place in this apartment would never come back.
No more wine nights, and board games. No more spontaneous debriefs with friends, during the 30 minute windows when we could actually see each other. No more late-night pasta. No more getting ready in different corners of the apartment. No more, not here. Because I don’t live in this apartment, because undergrad is over.
That was the point when I started to cry. But to be honest, I had been expecting it, if anything I had been anticipating it. Because throughout these last few weeks, I could not cry, there was too much going on that my mind couldn’t even set aside energy to shed a few tears. From finals, to several graduation ceremonies, to hanging out with my friends and family, to moving, and more… that night in my empty apartment was the first moment in weeks where I was actually alone. That night was the only time I allowed myself to experience stillness and process what just happened days before.
So of course I cried. I sobbed my eyes out for hours, getting little sleep at all even though thats what I was also there to do. But I needed it. I needed to mourn the last four years of my life.
I wish I could sum up what these last few years have meant to me, but I simply cannot. I’m much too vulnerable still, and I don’t know if I could fully express myself in a couple hundred words. So maybe this post will get a part 2. But for now, I think this excerpt from the previous draft of this post will kind of sum up the experience of graduating:
To some extent, it feels a lot like just another day. Like the way birthdays sometimes feel. Tomorrow, I’ll put on my cap and gown and walk across a stage, to shake the hand of a dean I barely recognize. Then I’ll go home, and to move out of my apartment. It’s not completely unfathomable, I’ve moved every year in the last four years. And, I’ve walked across stages too, to shake the hands of people who I don’t really know. But inside, I know it’s more than all that. Because tomorrow, when I put on my cap and gown, and my white dress I spent weeks trying to find, and the heels I’ve been breaking in, I know it’ll mean something more. This might be the last time this ever happens. This might be the last time I’ll be sitting in my apartment, with my roommate of four years just behind another door, getting ready for a big night. And the “big night” in question won’t just be some party like it usually is, or a nice dinner with our friend group, or even a trashy last-minute trip to the bars. And the girl behind the other door won’t even be my roommate anymore, because tomorrow everything will change, and that chapter of my life (as I know it) will come to an end.
In the end, graduating is exactly as I’ve said: the end of a chapter (and the beginning of a new one). And as poetic as that is, and as impressive of an achievement as graduating is, I think we also forget to acknowledge the fact that endings fucking suck too.
Endings suck. And when you spent the last four years of your life living in a different state, relying on your university to give you a sense of community and structure, it’s hard to comprehend how all of that is just.. over now. Of course, I think I’m ready to move on, but it’s just sad that I have to.
To be in college is a beautiful thing; and to engage in the study of interesting topics around people your own age, enjoying being young and limitless is a once in a lifetime experience. No wonder people glamorize it so much. These four years have been such a special time in my life, and I feel like I’ve not only gotten my degree and formed a community, but I’ve started to discover the person I’m truly meant to be. And I could never be more grateful to my university for helping me find it all.
However, now it’s clearly time for those rose-colored, coming of age-tinted glasses to come off, and for a more mature pair to be put on. This next “chapter” of my life is still going to be full of the same joie de vivre, but instead of focusing on school, or my friends, or even my future, I think I’m just going to focus on me, and continuing the journey of self-discovery that university kickstarted.
So thank you to The College Experience™ for helping me find my interests in both art and politics, for giving me my friends who are now my family, for building up my hobbies in writing and language learning, and most importantly for giving me the confidence to be myself. I think the biggest lesson I took away was that I was always the person I was meant to be, and through all the trial and error college brings, I became more assured of the fact. (An idea for another post perhaps)
So thank you college. I’m eternally grateful for you and all you’ve brought me.
Sincerely,
Amelia.