I’ve talked about several different endings on this blog: the ending of the first draft of my novel VINDICTA, the ending of high school, and the ending of any semblance of safety for minorities in the US. Here’s another one to add to the list: the ending of my first year of university.
Despite the cliché, I honestly have changed a lot over the last seven months, no matter how cliché that sounds. Being thrust into a living situation with a bunch of people you don’t know is difficult, but it helped me become more independent. As an only child, I relied on my parents for a lot. Suddenly having to figure out what to do at 3 AM when my printer isn’t working or when the toilet paper runs out in a four-girl suite made me grow up, and quickly.
But it also made me change in other ways, too. I’ve been a shy kid my entire life, and that didn’t change the moment I entered university. But the people I met there helped. I’ve heard the horror stories of residence life, but I’m incredibly lucky not only to have a group of roommates that I love, but an amazing community of people on my floor as well who were willing to accept me as I am.
As I write this, there are seventeen days until I have to leave my residence for good. And the day I move out will be sad. There’s a pretty good chance I’ll cry at some point or another. I’ve made a lot of memories and a lot of friends here, and I don’t want to leave that behind. But there’s always next year. After all, memories are for life, and some of the friendships I’ve made here will be, too.
Stay tuned for another post about my first year of university!
More posts about my time in first year can be found here.