It’s here. I’m here. Even now, I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is dread or anticipation; maybe a mixture of both. On one hand, it’s the end of my summer, my youth, a truly finite conclusion to the countless relationships and memories forged amidst my life thus far. It’s almost a near certainty that I’ll never see the majority of my friends again, a thought I’ve consistently tried–and failed–to repress to the very depths of my consciousness. Sure, there’ll be the odd correspondence here and there, but inevitably, over time, we’ll drift further and further apart, as the distance and conflicting timetables tear asunder the remains of our once-unbreakable bonds.
On the other hand, it’s a symbol of new beginnings, of my transition into adult life, a life of autonomy and independence. It’s a newfound world of limitless freedoms and opportunities, unbounded by standard convention. In a way, college is a carbon copy of high school, but with responsibilities rather than directions, choices rather than restrictions. There’s no longer anybody left to tell you what to do: to finish that paper instead of playing another game of Overwatch, to study for midterms instead of partying all night. It’s a thrilling, yet downright terrifying thought. Here is the line which differentiates children from adults, an endless chasm in which one wrong step can spell near-certain doom.
College is going to be tough, there’s no denying that. Every quiz, every essay, every final. Add in RSOs, research, and internships and it can look downright depressing. But despite all that, I’m sure I’ll find time to enjoy myself. And if not, I’ll make time. After all, I want to look back on these next four years and be able to say: damn, that was one of the best times of my life. No excuses, no explanations, no regrets. And so I’ll welcome the future with open arms.