Everything was fine until I got back from Spring Break. When I got back, my senior thesis rough draft was due, my grad school application deadlines were popping up, I had two research paper proposals due, and Cotillion was coming up. Not too long after, Josten’s sent the seniors an email letting us know there was a deadline to order graduation regalia.
Tired isn’t the word. This is the first time I felt like everything they say on Twitter is about college is true. The memes about how you have no time. How your last summer break is in high school. It’s all true. My last semester in college wasn’t supposed to be the worst semester I’ve had. But it is.
First, I have this amazing teacher. I feel I’ve learned so much from him, from Communication Law to Media art and history. However I’m starting to feel like he hates me, and that he might hate himself. I have him for Senior Thesis, which is a 20 page paper along with a presentation. I also have him for Media Art and History, where he has us writing a five page paper. He’s having a baby very soon, and all of this is due around the time his baby boy expected to pop out into existence.
I’m so sure that he is very excited, but why would he want to read nearly twelve different five page papers when he’s about to have a baby? And why would he make me write a 20 page paper along with the five page paper? Stress isn’t the word.
Then, I have British Literature in the SAME SEMESTER as my senior thesis. I have a research paper due in that class, and it’s 2,000 words. Stress isn’t the word.
On top of all of this, I am beginning to feel that my friends, who are supposed to understand me the most, aren’t getting it. I spend a lot of time in my room, and people just aren’t understanding why I don’t spend years in their rooms, why I hardly go to dinner, and why I don’t have time to listen to their problems. These are friends at school and from back home. No one seems to understand that I have a 20 page paper, along with a presentation that will determine whether or not I graduate. To be honest, I hardly had time to write this article.
So, for the love of all that is good: if you have a friend who is a second semester senior, try your best to understand they can’t be there for you. They don’t have time for breaks: not even to eat. There is no time for anything.
With that said, I’ll leave my dark room at graduation.