Another semester is coming to an end, finals are looming over all of us, and the chaos of trying to tie up every loose end before the summer swallows the school year in its entirety is coming quickly. I look forward to this time of year when the spring settles and summer is bursting in the wind, except now I’m not thinking of the blooming flowers, the looming beach air, or even the ungodly amount of time I’ll spend reading the books I’ve put off throughout the year. I can only think of the invisible timer floating above my head, counting down to June 29th, when I will be forced to say goodbye to my five-year undergrad journey. It always seemed so far off in the distance, something that 18-year-old me left 23-year-old me to worry about. As of writing this, I am 20 days away from having to worry, and I am worried about worrying.
These past five years have been some of the most challenging. Every year I learned something new about myself, I transformed into the version of myself that would laugh at my past self and would awe at my future self. I was going to make this article a reflection of myself, but the truth is I am so many people rolled into one. A melting pot of those who pushed me, who saw me when I couldn’t see myself, those who looked for me, who were patient with me when I wasn’t deserving, and those who root for me even amid my confusion.
I’ve always heard the refrain of “it takes a village” and I never thought much of it until reflecting back at the happiest points of my undergrad experience. A lot of times, I felt so lonely and isolated during this process, no one in my immediate family could really relate to me or what I was going through, so I felt the need to find people who would. And find people, I did. I created my own little family that has been ever-changing and such a huge part of shaping who I am. But now, as I sit a month away from graduation day, I realize that this village, the people who have become my constant, is not going to be what it is now ever again. I find myself sitting in a corner, eyeing them all as they laugh, cry, joke, and live, and I can’t help but say to myself “I want to feel like this forever”.
I look at my friends in the most casual of situations and I cannot help but torture myself with the thought that we will never have life like this again. We will never be crammed in my best friend’s apartment kitchen on a random Tuesday, in between classes, laughing and complaining about all the work we have yet to do. Never again will we be in our early twenties, attending the same university, in the same city, with the same goals, fears, and ambition that drives us to the next day and the day after that.
I know forever is a long time, and inevitably the best part of life is knowing that it will end one day, but I still want forever. And I’ve wanted forever before, I have wanted to stay where I am comfortable, but I wouldn’t have met my village if I stayed comfortable. Which is why letting go of this part of myself is so difficult. Because this time I know it’s real. This time I’m not going to sigh in relief when August arrives, because it means a new semester with new experiences with my village, it means making grown-up decisions, it means not knowing what I’m going to do the next day, it means not knowing anything. Which is equally as terrifying as it is exciting.
So to my village, please don’t forget these days or the ways you helped shape me. To Sebella who was the first person I met on orientation day all those years ago, thank you for feeding into my delusions, I hope we can heal together. To Christopher, for holding my umbrella so that I could get my keys out of my backpack that one rainy day. I lied about needing your help, and I would normally apologize for lying, but I am only sorry I didn’t lie earlier. To Paola, who frolicked around the unknown with me aimlessly for years, I loved exploring everything we were clueless about, I miss you. To The Losers Club, for being my first friend group, I love all of you more than you could ever know. To Mer, who made me a big sister for the first time, I can’t wait to see all the beautiful things you do, I can’t wait to see you flourish and conquer the world. To my rock, Paloma, I’ve never met someone like you in my life. I could thank you every day for the rest of eternity and it wouldn’t be enough to cover not one piece of my gratitude. To my first love and the person I owe everything to, Glo. I couldn’t have ever guessed that after eight years we would still be here, still evolving, loving and hating, and still learning together, just as curious as we were at 15. I love you more than I could ever put into words.
To my dear HC readers, staff, and fellow members, thank you for giving me a voice, for trusting me with your precious articles, and for creating such a safe space within all the chaos.
Goodbye, and happy reading forever and ever,
Lu.