In less than a month, I’ll be graduating college. I’m 21 now, turning 22 in July, and the weight of everything I’ve experienced over the past four years at Pace University is starting to hit me. It’s left me feeling something surprising: not fear, not sadness, but excitement. I know the common college student sentiment, which is that they don’t want to graduate. My TikTok feed is constantly flooded with videos of 23-year-olds saying post-grad life is miserable, that we should savor every second we have left, and that the best years of our lives are behind us. I constantly see other college seniors admit that they’re lost and don’t know what they’re doing after graduation. And while I know all of those feelings are real and valid, I feel the opposite. If anything, graduating feels like a celebration of just how far I’ve come.
When I look back at myself at 18, freshly moved into my New York City dorm, I realize how little I truly knew. I’ve always been terrified of growing up. Even before college, milestones like high school graduation felt like impending doom. I’m someone who cries on every birthday, saves every ticket stub, says bye to every hotel room I stay in, gets overly emotional on the last day of school, and gets nostalgic at every sunset. Growing up has always felt like a ticking clock to me. Even as young as 14, I would cry on my birthdays because it meant getting older. I didn’t want to go to high school, because that meant getting closer to college, and college meant the real world. I wasn’t ready. I thought I would never be ready.Â
Since middle school, I knew I wanted to go into law (studying the Constitution in eighth grade made me fall in love with it), but even that deep passion didn’t stop me from dreading adulthood. As each year of high school passed by, I felt my childhood being stripped away little by little each year. By the time senior year of high school ended, I felt like a shell of myself. Graduation barely registered emotionally as I moved through the motions in denial that I was actually growing up.Â
College was no different at first. I moved into my dorm in the fall of 2021 and immediately began sobbing. Sure, I missed my family and friends. But deeper than that, I was mourning my youth— the careless, simple days when the biggest worry I had was what to wear to school or how to spend my Saturday. Even now, at 21, adulthood still feels foreign to me sometimes. I wasn’t ready for this next chapter, and it showed. Starting college during the aftermath of COVID-19 didn’t help either. After spending my senior year of high school online, suddenly being thrown into in-person college classes was jarring. I didn’t prepare for college because frankly, I didn’t want to. I didn’t research classes, internships, or even what it meant to be pre-law. I was drowning in general education courses like math and computing, feeling completely disconnected from my passion for law. I didn’t know what a pre-law track even looked like. I didn’t know when to take the LSAT. I didn’t know how to build my resume or what extracurriculars would help me. I was lost, and more than anything, I was exhausted. My first semester was brutal— full of confusion, disinterest, and the overwhelming exhaustion of constant nostalgia.
Sophomore year brought its own emotional milestone: turning 20. For someone who’s spent most of her life terrified of growing up, saying goodbye to my teenage years was devastating. When I was 15 or 16, I used to imagine that by 20, I would have everything figured out— that I’d be this effortlessly mature, elegant woman. Instead, I felt like a scared kid pretending to be an adult. But sophomore year also marked the beginning of my growth. With more freedom in my schedule, I finally started taking classes that aligned with my dreams. I declared a pre-law minor. I started researching law schools, internships, and possible career paths. I even joined a few clubs; clubs where I now hold leadership positions. It wasn’t a sudden transformation, but a slow, steady climb. Each semester, each step I took toward my goals, helped chip away at the fear that had paralyzed me for so long.
Now, standing here at the finish line of my undergraduate years, I feel proud. I studied abroad during my junior year. I’ve had multiple internships. I have real plans in place for what comes next. I have passions and a future I’m excited about. Of course, graduating college is bittersweet. A chapter is closing. But unlike high school, I’m not dissociating or pretending it’s not happening. I’m present. I’m ready. I’ve learned that growth doesn’t have to be scary; it can be beautiful.
I’m incredibly lucky. Lucky to have had these experiences, lucky to be walking across that stage soon, lucky to even have a future to look forward to. If there’s one thing these past four years have taught me, it’s that endings don’t have to be feared. They can be opportunities.
Looking back at my mental state this time exactly four years ago— being scared, overwhelmed, and unsure— I now feel nothing but pride. So, sorry, Taylor Swift, I actually knew nothing at 18, and everything at 22.