Graduation: The Things No One Talks About

It’s 2am. There’s just about 30 hours until I walk across the stage for my college graduation. I should be at the bar, drinking my way to last call and laughing with friends during my 4am McDonald’s run. 

But instead, I’m in my bed, having exhausted all my energy at the daytime bar crawl, making me unable to survive another long night. I tried the bar, but left after a solid 15 minutes because my head was pounding and I frankly didn’t have the motivation to dance or make small talk.  

Everyone plays Senior Week off as being this wonderful week of drinking, spending time with your friends, and making enough memories to last a lifetime. What doesn’t hit home until you’re living it, however, is the flood of emotions and state of confusion. The countdown clock we all spent months flipping off is in single digits; the green is landscaped and set up with plastic folding chairs and the stage; the dorms we called home for forever are packed up and bare-boned. There’s a panic to cross things off the bucket list; there’s a need to take pictures at every possible moment; there’s shopping for grad dresses and decorating caps and sharing laughs over the shenanigans of the day. One by one, we come to the realization that we will never all be in the same place with the same people ever again. We will never have that same feeling of having everyone a quick three minutes across the quad or five feet away. Many of us will move home, back to families with parents who don’t find it quite as acceptable to drink an entire bottle of wine on a Wednesday just for the heck of it, adults who think it’s crazy to leave for the bar at 12:30 am. 

I have to admit, thinking about life after college is terrifying. Not because I’m worried about getting a job; to be honest, it’s the least of my concerns, because I know my studies and experiences have prepared me to tackle a real career. I’m scared because after years of feeling like an outsider, a doormat that people walked over, used, and left behind, I finally feel like I am part of a group who loves me for who I am. And now I feel like it is all going to be taken from me. 

I know that my transition back to home will likely be a very dark time for me. After a semester abroad last year, I spent much of the summer in a serious depression. And that was knowing that I’d get to come back to my favorite place, college. How can I possibly survive, having the knowledge that there’s no more school in the fall? 

How can friends moving to all parts of the country-and the globe-possibly survive the test of time apart? Will I have to start from scratch all over again?

 Soon, my friends and I will be on three separate continents; working different jobs, living different lives, figuring out the world on our own. I know that modern technology will be our saving grace; group FaceTimes and late-night texting will keep us connected as much as possible. I can only hope that it is enough.

But here’s to the best four years with the best people; looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. I am forever grateful for the nights out and the nights in, obsessing over our shared favorite shows (mainly rolling our eyes at Colton Underwood), trekking to McDonald’s for late night McFlurries, and the many dinner dates and Hibachi adventures. We laughed, we cried, we danced, we sang (sincere apologies to our McCormick Hall neighbors). We held on tight and enjoyed the ride.

I’ll always think of senior year when I hear ABBA’s "Dancing Queen.” And then I’'ll hear “Old Town Road” and laugh for a good 20 minutes.

Thank you to all of my friends who were always there through thick and thin. Words can’t express how much you mean to me. I love you forever. Here’s to many more years of laughter, memories, and bad puns.