At a fork in the road of life, Chloe Rowe tells her frustrations with the end of university, and why things are probably not going to get better, at least for her anyway.
Time is running out. The end is near. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I want to run back, run away from the light. I know what is waiting for me at the end and I don’t like it. I want to stay here.
University is almost over.
It sounds dramatic, but this is a dire situation for me, and others, I hope. I will be leaving in a few weeks. It has flown by so quick it is entirely unfair.
I have many questions. What comes next? What will happen to my friends? Will I even get a job after this? Am I going to end up living with my parents forever?
All the answers to these are looking bleak, but I guess that’s because I’m not a very optimistic person.
And it is because of this fear of the future that I am reluctant for it to end, and also the fact that I love it here.
I guess not everyone will feel the same way, maybe some are excited for it to end, hell I didn’t even care about university when I started, I just thought ‘why not?’ and three years down the line I have become dependent on university, the socialising, the learning, the routine, the independence.
Even when I'm struggling with mountains of essays and deadlines attacking me at all angles, I appreciate it all.
The responsibilities are comparably smaller than real life ones, and the fun is constant.
I'm going to liken this to leaving your childhood home.
Like a person who has grown up in their house, who has memories in every room, whether that be dancing in the kitchen with your mum whilst you cook dinner, chasing your brother up and down the stairs after he annoys you. Even your bedroom, a place that has been a piece of peace for you when you’re feeling down, a room where you have finally perfected the positioning of the posters on the wall. To move house is to leave all the memories behind, the good and bad.
And now with me leaving university, a place I have called home for only three years, which in that sense doesn’t match up to the childhood home analogy, but it is a place where I have the same strong memories.
I have memories across so many areas, in classrooms where I gained confidence in my writing, in my second year flat where I watched the sun slowly set every night (thank heavens my flat was facing in that direction!), to my favourite dingy bar with the neon signs where I developed a taste for fruity cocktails, and to all the people I met and have spent hours discussing the meaning of life and all things ridiculous in their cramped shared house.
In leaving I am separating from those memories. I’m leaving the place where I have learned so much about tolerance with the strangers you live with, about writing fast before a deadline, about getting over my anxiety, about cooking some really good food all by myself.
I will take the lessons with me, but I won't be able to experience them anymore, I won’t be in this moment, right now.
So I’m sad. And I'm dramatic. And I just want to stay a little while longer. Delay real life. Stay with friends. Party hard. All the good stuff.
It ended too fast.
And I hope there are people out there who agree with me and resonate with this. Maybe you’re in the exact situation I’m in with a weather report of doom seemingly on the way. Or you’ve been there, done that and got the t-shirt, but still miss the days when letting loose was easy.
Or maybe, university has been the worst experience of your life and you think everything I’ve said is absolute rubbish and you think that I'm living in fairyland. And in that case, I'm sorry you can’t relate. Though maybe post-uni life will be better for you than it is probably going to be for me.
Whatever the case, just know that things end, and it’s okay to be upset about it.
Commenti