I think this is the scariest time of the year.
Finals week begins today and while I should be busy hiding in the corners of Swem or Tyler hall, I can’t help but looking back on the year and trying to tie all the remaining knots. As I mentioned in my last post, a lot of my friends are graduating in about two weeks, and while I am happy for their futures and the new pages they will write, I am only starkly reminded that time isn’t as vast as I thought. I’ll be a senior in August and that frightens me the most.
In a recent conversation with my pal who is abroad, I told him that I really think senior year is going to be nothing more than a cataclysmic recycle of freshmen year. I think of the ouroboros—the ancient symbol depicting the snake (or dragon) eating its tail—and imagine how we, like the snake, will have to devour all of the memories and mistakes from the years in order to survive. I can only imagine how the seniors are dealing with the end of their own tales now.
I feel as though this summer is the last chance I have to relax, explore, breathe. But there is all of this expectation to intern, get real world experience, touch the paint before I splatter myself. As much as I want to travel to New York and intern with a magazine, I am anxious to leave. I find myself tenaciously trying to find an excuse to stay. The other day while I was running past Adair, I caught a whiff of sunscreen I was immediately hit with a montage of memories and emotions, and images of the beach, of friends, of golden dusk—all of which have filled my summers. All of which I will miss.
My tentative plans involve staying for the first session of summer classes and then going up to New York for an internship. But financial aid has yet to send out any reward letters and I haven’t secured a place to stay in NY yet, so I’m constantly on nerve. We shall see.
So, I don’t know my summer plans; I’m not excited for senior year.
But I do miss my friends; I am still scared; and I am going to hide for finals.