Back to School?

Sometimes I tell people I’m excited to go back to school. Other times I tell them I’m not. I’m not lying in either situation or saying what the person wants to hear, I just think I’m torn on the issue.

I have no traumatic memories associated with college. There’s nothing that happened there that I regret and there are few things I’d do differently. I don’t have any reason to dread going back to school but for some reason, a part of me does anyway. I don’t know if it’s because of the march towards the end that will happen once I step foot on campus. I don’t know if it’s the 100-page thesis that’s looming over my head. I don’t know if it’s the fact that this will be my last chance to interact with some people. I don’t know if it’s because I’ll finally have to accept responsibility for the choices I’ve made over the last few years. But honestly, I don’t think it’s any of those things.

Those things I just listed, those are the things that get me excited about entering my senior year. But there must be something else that really scares me too. I think part of it is the fear that comes with any new thing. I don’t know what to expect since I’ve never done this before. I think the other part of it may be the fact that 5 years after I leave Princeton, 90% of the people I’ve met here will have forgotten about me. If not, they probably won’t be talking to me anyway.

When I left high school, this thought never even occurred to me. It didn’t matter if anyone knew my name when I graduated. I just didn’t care. But once I came to college, in addition to becoming more caring and compassionate, I became more unsure of my relationships. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t often wonder what my friendships would look like a month from now. And I think I know why.

I think now, way more than in high school, I’m able to see myself as I truly am. I can honestly recognize my flaws and realize that I’m not all that great. I don’t write that to self-deprecate, I just know the truth (in more ways than one :)). I’m nothing to write home about. That’s not a bad thing because no one’s perfect and we can’t realistically hold people to that standard. But it is bad because if people think the way I think, there’s no hope for me and I’m a lost cause.

So I guess that’s the reason I worry. I’m worried that all the people whom I’ve met who are way more awesome than me will suddenly be like, PSYCH!, and become friends with some more awesome person. That sounds really sad and equally unlikely but, I don’t know, that’s where my brain goes sometimes.

Guess we’ll see what happens when I get back.


Pax Christi,



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