A Letter to My 17-Year-Old Self

The moment I hit submit in October, I fell into a habit of staring each day at the calendar, itching and sweating over a fateful email that could change my life. 

I spent late nights scrolling through Reddit, looking for hints as to when exactly my fateful decision may arrive, and I deduced it to be the last Friday of January at 3:00 pm, in the middle of Spanish class. 

I obviously skipped Spanish class that day in fear of the tension in the classroom and sat at home, holding the hands of my parents as I opened up my applicant portal. 

Postponed application. 

What does that even mean?

Upon realizing that it meant I was deferred, I was crushed. 

After listening to my hyper-competitive classmates call deferral a “soft rejection,” I felt dumb. Many of my classmates received acceptance letters that round of decisions, bragging about it in class, ignoring the reddening faces of those who got deferred, or worse, rejected. Worst of all, my friends who were aiming for the Ivy Leagues had my dream school listed as a safety, so they got into the school I wanted but had no intention of going there.

I was constantly frustrated and angry at the world, and for the first time in my life, almost hated myself. 

I sent in applications to several other schools, hoping for some good news in the future to take my mind off the bad. My reaches rejected me, which I expected, but one safety waitlisted me, crippling my confidence, ensuring my overthinking brain that there was no way I was getting into my dream school and that I was perpetually screwed. 

Sure, I got acceptances into other schools, good schools, but none of them were what I was working toward all four years of high school. None of them felt the same; they only reminded me of what I didn’t have. 

Months later, I sat on an airplane, heading to Florida for spring break, sitting in my tank top and sweatpants, my Safari browser reloading constantly to see the outcome of the regular decision pool.

As the plane took off, I was notified that I was waitlisted. 

I knew I should make alternate plans and commit to a different college, but I didn’t want to accept it. I couldn’t accept it. I’m not the type of person to give up, and I didn’t want to, but this was life, not some simple action I could take back. 

I committed to a college with a great location and family friends nearby, but none of the passion was there. 

I still held onto hope that I didn’t have to go there. I began manifesting my acceptance off the waitlist – I didn’t wear my college shirt for our senior picture tailgate and barely put effort into health forms and virtual orientation. I had literal dreams about the college I wanted, seeing myself there, making me even more distressed. A part of me just knew I had to get in, but time was running out. 

In early July, I began to accept it. I joined Snapchat group chats with people in my dorm and started texting my future roommates, allowing myself to finally get excited about the possibility of something new that I didn’t expect. I realized that maybe this different college was meant for me. It was a fresh start in a new state with new people. I told myself that was what I needed. 

I was finally satisfied with what I had when I got the text message from the University of Michigan – the text message I had been waiting for since October. 

I ran to my mom’s car when she pulled into the driveway, and we stood there crying in relief. 

In the months I was waiting for my acceptance, I learned a lot of things about myself and those around me that I think I needed to realize before getting accepted. I learned a lot about my best friends, relationships in general, and the importance of having hope and unwavering determination. 

If I had gotten accepted earlier, I would be a different person than I am now. I would have different friends, a different lifestyle, and most importantly, I wouldn’t be as strong. I have a tremendous amount of patience now, and an understanding that good things can take time so you learn what you need to to make the experience even better. 

To all of you Michigan hopefuls out there who might be reading this days before your decisions come out, I am here for you and I have been where you are now. Everyone is probably saying, “what is meant to happen will happen” to you and it seems like utter and complete nonsense, but it’s true. Maybe you think Michigan is your place, but it might not be – there could be another college you applied to on your list, perhaps a random college you weren’t really considering that could end up becoming your favorite place in the world. One of my friends ended up in that situation and she’s happier than ever. Michigan could be your place, but it might take you time to get there – you just might need to learn a little more about yourself before you get there – and that’s okay too.

Whatever the case, stay strong and stay true to yourself. Your college decisions do not define you – these people don’t even know you, they just know a version of you on paper. 

It’s your final year of high school – have fun! Go out to lunch, watch that movie you’ve been meaning to get to and spend time with your friends and family. Do the things you didn’t allow yourself to do during high school because you never had time since you were trying to get stellar grades. Don’t completely drop the ball, but live a little and give yourself some wiggle room. 

Before you know it, you’re going to be spending your first night in your dorm, feeling a whole mix of emotions, like sadness, loneliness, and confusion, but you’re also going to know deep down that it’s going to be so incredibly fun.

• college
• college applications
• mental health