Dear Collegiettes,
Today I finished my last day of volunteering with Emory Strong Kids—an organization that allows us to help with a local charter school’s after school program. I often found myself being told I was so old—when they guessed I was 22 they would gasp and look at me in awe. Being that these kids are mostly five and six, I guess being in college is pretty unfathamable.
They still spout dreams of being Olympic gymnasts, professional dancers, astronauts—and many other ideas that rarely come to be. It’s amazing that from the time we can barely count to 30, we are able to imagine events and futures that are so far away.
But I guess that’s what happened when we were seniors in high school or even freshman in college—we imagined the next four years of our lives. We would daydream about the parties, the boys, the cool college events. We anticipated the reading, the homework, the professors, the classes. But, most of the time, we never thought of how we would change; more specifically, how college would change us. We never imagined how we would grow up. And we probably never thought that the day dreams and thoughts we once had would be so different from our current realities.
The reality is so much better.
The days have flown by—I am writing this as I know I only have 11 more days until I march myself, in my Harry Potter cloak, across a stage in front of hundreds of people. The days have flown and now I have 11 days to fulfill an entire list of things that I thought would at some point happen over a two-semester time span. Boys, restaurants, drinking activities, adventures—all part of an old bucket list that will dictate how I will remember my entire senior year. A bucket list that essentially says in fine print, “Complete me now because in 11 days your life is over.”
But that’s just it. Life is just about to begin. Emory has become my home-away-from-home over the past three years. After transferring to Emory, I quickly found myself calling my dorm room “home,” making many groups of friends that are as important to me as my own family, and screwing up again and again, surviving each mistake because of professors who coached me like my own parents would. This small bubble has built me, piece-by-piece, into the person I am right now.
We seniors have bumped along this seemingly endless college path not really realizing that there was actually a point to all of it. Maybe funneling all that beer upside-down at the frat house didn’t really serve a greater purpose but to provide an impressive alcohol tolerance. But every mistake, triumph, hook-up, break-up, failure, and excitement were merely building blocks creating a foundation from which “real life” can safely take off.
Most of my friends joke because I have the emotional range of a teaspoon and am not a very affectionate person. I even said in my final sorority speech that feelings make me angry. However, I think they are all in for a shock when I have to say my final goodbyes; something I have never been good at.
But who really is?
As I ready myself to leave this school by writing this final article, I hope that whoever finds themselves reading it will take something away:
If you are a senior, it is never goodbye. Your life is just about to begin. Don’t live in the past, but let your memories push you forward and ensure that you are ready for whatever happens next. No one can take away these past four years.
For the underclassmen, do not be afraid to meet as many people as you can, screw up as many times as possible, and step outside your comfort zone. Whether you are just beginning your path at Emory or about to enter your last year, this is the time to be whoever you want, learn from your mistakes, and make the most of every single minute.
For anyone who could be reading this—never live in fear of what others may think. Live openly and just be you. You are the only one judging yourself.
College has opened my eyes to many things about the world, people, and most of all, myself. Everyone told me that college changes you and will be the best four years of your life. I never once believed that could be true.
But here I am. Four years later. Changed. I no longer doubt what I am capable of, and I know that what is in the unknown only holds the greatest of possibilities. I can only hope that everyone gets to experience what I have. Every person I have met here has changed me in some way, building me up to who I am now, and forcing me to learn so much more about the world and its infinite possibilities.
Be open to people, experiences, but most of all, change. I am still trying to figure out what I want to do and who I want to be–but I know it is okay not to know. We are growing up—and that is okay. It is okay to move on; after all, it is the natural circumstance of life. But just remember, as far as you go, your memories will always tie you to the place you have learned to call home. Goodbye is never forever.
Later Emory. It’s been real.
Infitine x’s & o’s,
Alison Mears