First year is over. Wow. I’m sitting in my chair in front of the laptop on the corner of my desk - a position in which I probably spent the past 80% of the past 8 months. It’s the last night of the year; I have to be out by noon tomorrow. It already feels so different - the walls are bare, the shelves and drawers are empty, everything is gone. I’ve been packing for the past couple days and my dad came by and picked everything up this afternoon. I guess I just wanted a few more hours in this home. Most everyone’s gone. Walking down the hallway, everyone’s taken down their name tags; you can tell they’re gone.
This bareness feels almost like a deja-vu to the first time I walked in on move-in day. How was that eight months ago? Eight months ago, frosh leaders were helping me carry my fridge up to the third floor and I was unlocking the door for the first time. It felt like home from that first day. I remember arranging my belongings and looking up at the slanted ceiling and saying to myself, “welcome home”.
I remember walking into Whitney Hall for the first time and staring at a girl tying her shoes or something. Funny, she was moving out the same time as me today. It’s like our whole relationship was a crazy coincidence or something.
Eight fucking months. Looking back is always so much easier than going through it. It’s ridiculous that it’s over. I spent too many of those months in a haze, wishing each day would disappear. Where’d eight months go? I slept through it. It’s kinda funny to wake up from depression and realize that everything’s passed you by.
I don’t know if I’ve learned very much, academically. For the first time in my life, I failed a course. That’s right, I got an F - 40% in linear algebra. Go me. Dropping straight from the top to the bottom, ain’t that something? I don’t exactly remember when I had decided to just say fuck it to my academics. I don’t know if I’ve learned very much at all, actually. I kept saying to myself over and over again, hey I’m gonna get my shit together, I’m gonna set my life straight but the year’s over and that never happened. Whoops.
Although, I gotta admit, I think I always knew that I would be an irresponsible wreck. C'mon, down inside, we all know exactly what kind of person we really are.
I’ll miss this place. I really will. It’s been good to me. I’ve loved it here, despite everything. There’ve been many great moments and memories, and also many little things I’ve come to love. It’s comfortable and familiar, it’s home.
But I’m glad it’s over; I’m glad it was what it was. I can’t really formulate thoughts or sentences at the moment or write anything that could do justice to the happenings of the year. It’s pretty much been like a TV show and this is the cheesy little season finale that makes everything alright.