ME v. ME: Sentiments From a Sappy Senior
Senior year feels like the most bittersweet chapter of my life. Every day is a reminder that this version of life—this exact mix of people, places, and experiences—will never exist again. It’s a strange feeling, wanting to hold on so tightly to everything while also preparing myself to let it go. There’s a beauty in that impermanence, though, because it makes every interaction, every class, every morning debrief with friends feel more significant. I’ve realized that being intentional doesn’t just mean making time for the big moments; it’s about cherishing the smaller ones, too. The walks across campus, the inside jokes that happen in passing, and all the small but powerful reminders that this is home.
For the first time, I feel a sense of urgency, not out of stress but out of gratitude. It’s an urgency to soak up every ounce of this experience. I’m no longer focused on grades alone but on the act of learning itself—of gaining knowledge not just to advance but to understand. My professors have taught me more than content; they’ve taught me how to think critically and challenge myself. My peers have inspired me with their passion and perspectives, and I feel lucky to have shared this time with them.
Senior year feels so different from all the others. The leap from junior to senior isn’t just academic; it’s emotional, almost like crossing an invisible threshold into a world only seniors understand. There’s this unspoken bond within the senior class—a sense of camaraderie that comes from sharing the same spaces, the same classes, the same nights out at familiar bars. It’s like we’ve formed an exclusive club, one where we all silently acknowledge, This is it. We’re the ones at the finish line now.
There’s something incredibly satisfying about walking across campus and recognizing so many friends and familiar faces. In some ways, it feels like I’ve conquered this place. This little corner of the world has become mine, and I’ve grown comfortable here, surrounded by people who’ve made it feel like home.
And yet, that sense of comfort comes with a quiet longing for what’s next. It’s not that I want to leave behind the life I’ve built, but there’s a part of me ready to trade this pond for a bigger one. That readiness doesn’t come from wanting more—it comes from the satisfaction of knowing I made the most of my time here.
As much as I want to slow down time, I also find myself looking ahead with curiosity. Senior year has made me reflect deeply on who I am and who I want to be. It’s not just about preparing for what comes next but about making peace with where I’ve been. This year has been about asking myself: What do I want to leave behind? And what do I want to take with me?
Senior year isn’t just the end; it’s the culmination of everything that came before it. It’s the friendships that survived the Granville suite and delirious all-night cram sessions. It’s the professors who challenged me to think harder, write better, and dream bigger. It’s the faces I pass every day, knowing we’ve all been shaped by the same experience in ways we’ll never fully understand.
And when the countdown finally hits zero, I know I’ll walk away with no regrets—only gratitude for the time I spent here and excitement for what comes next.
