There’s something strange about being in your final year of college. You still walk through the hallways with the same ID badge, complain about the Wi-Fi, show up a little sleepy to your 8:10 a.m. class, and split a snack from the cafeteria with a friend. However, at the same time, you know you’re officially standing at the exit door. And not just from college, but from that more comfortable version of life where saying “I’m a student” still explains almost everything.
Living between two versions of yourself
Senior year feels like a suspended space. You’re still a college student, but you’re already being treated like a professional. “I’m still learning” doesn’t work as a universal excuse anymore. The job market looks at you with expectation, LinkedIn becomes part of your daily routine, and the word “career” suddenly feels real.
And, of course, there’s the classic combo: final classes, your thesis, an internship or full-time job, meetings, deadlines, events, presentations. You leave a lecture about communication theories and, two hours later, you’re in a meeting discussing strategy, goals, and results. It feels like living two versions of yourself in the same day, the student who still writes everything down in their notebook and the young professional who’s expected to have a well-formed opinion.
Balancing your thesis with work feels almost like an extreme sport. You learn that productivity isn’t an aesthetic Pinterest board, it’s survival. You write chapters on weekends, review references during lunch breaks, and answer emails on the bus. Somewhere in between, you start wondering: Am I ready? Is everyone else just as lost as I am, or am I the only one pretending to know what I’m doing?
The weight of “last times”
But senior year isn’t just anxiety and open spreadsheets. It also carries a different kind of weight, the weight of “last times.”
The last time you’ll go to a college party knowing that next semester your routine might look completely different. The last time you’ll pick an outfit thinking about your student association, your friends, and the pictures that will end up on your feed. The last time waking up early feels worth it because the night before was filled with laughter that made your stomach hurt.
And then there’s JUCA, the Communication and Arts University Games, which stops being just another date on the calendar and starts to feel like a goodbye. It’s not only about the competitions, the performances, or the parties. It’s about realizing that the crowded bus rides, the chants, the friendships strengthened in the middle of chaos, and the stories you’ll tell for years are happening for the last time while you’re still officially “in college.”
It’s strange to realize that experiences that once felt endless now have an expiration date.And in the middle of all this, there’s the people.
Senior year is also when it finally hits you that those unlikely friendships, the classmate who randomly sat next to you in your first semester, the group formed for a random assignment, the person completely different from you who became your safe space during exam weeks, won’t be part of your everyday routine much longer.
You grew up together. You survived demanding professors, chaotic group projects, last-minute assignments, existential crises in the hallway, and celebratory dinners after big submissions. Now you’re learning how to talk about the future instead of just the next test.It’s not dramatic. It’s just being aware of time.
Growing up without having all the answers
Senior year teaches you that growing up isn’t about suddenly becoming someone else. It’s about accepting that you can feel fear and excitement at the same time. That you can love college and still be ready to leave it. That you can want stability in the corporate world and still miss the lightness of being “just a student.”
Maybe the impasse isn’t really about no longer being a college student. Maybe it’s about understanding that this version of you doesn’t disappear, it evolves.
Entering your final year is a constant exercise in saying goodbye and saying hello at the same time. It’s closing chapters with care, the 8:10 a.m. classes, the last-minute assignments, the parties, JUCA, the laughter in the hallways, while opening space for a new phase that’s still scary, but also full of promise.
And if there’s one thing I’m learning right now, it’s that no one is ever 100% ready. You just go anyway, with your thesis open on your laptop, your schedule packed, your heart split between staying and leaving, and a group of friends who, even as life takes everyone in different directions, will always be part of your story.
Maybe becoming an adult isn’t a single, exact moment. Maybe it’s this, moving forward even without having all the answers, but carrying everything college gave you along the way.
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The article above was edited by Isabella Messias.
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