I guess mine are about done, barring any unforeseen crisis. I’ve taken my last classes and turned in my final projects. The graduation ceremony is in a week and some days.
I didn’t really have the typical college experience. For one thing, I left in the middle for about four years. Plus I spent my final summer break in rehab, so there’s that.
I also completely failed to make any of the connections you’re supposed to enjoy in college, those friendships that last the rest of your life. Most of my college experience was lonely flailing and paranoia, with some academics thrown in. I’m not going to any of the events they throw for seniors around this time of year, because I won’t really know anyone there.
I don’t feel much about this. I expect I will eventually. Feelings tend to follow endings for me. It’s like when you hit your head or cut your finger, and there’s a second before the pain sets in, a moment where you just stand there and think, “This is going to hurt.” One day I’ll look back at the lovely people I went to school with and regret not getting to know any of them, I’m sure. I’ll listen to people tell their silly stories about the things they got up to, and all I’ll have to offer is the nights I spent drinking alone in a dorm or watching movies with my cats in my apartment.
It’s so strange to finally be ending this huge part of my life. Even after I dropped out of college, for years I could feel it hanging over my head, this thing I failed to do. I guess parts of it still kind of feel like a thing I failed to do.
I’m moving back home. I can’t wait for that. No, I’m really not sure I can. For a week and some days, I’m not even going to have the daily interactions of taking classes. I’m a little scared of that. But then I’ll be going home.
The key to getting through anything, I have found, is having something to look forward to at the end.
I’m going home.