Get me the hell out of here

How it feels to be a graduating senior

When our adviser at the Torch told me I should stay away from “sappy, yearbook-style” writing for this piece, I literally thought to myself, “That’s just not possible for me. I have so much love for Ferris and so many sentimental things to say.” And truthfully, I was going to write a sappy article anyway.

Yes, this was originally going to be an article about how sad I am to leave Ferris and how grateful I am for my time here. But now—while I am certain that I’m sad and grateful somewhere deep down—at this exact moment, I feel absolutely nothing of the sort. Rather than blow a bunch of smoke up your ass in regard to how much I’ve learned, how happy I am and how excited I am to start the next chapter in my life, I’m just going to be honest.

I would pay big money for all of this to end right now. If I could bribe someone to give me that stupid, overpriced piece of paper that implies I know shit so I can get a job, I would. But of course, I have no money to bribe them with.

Two months ago, the thought of leaving Ferris instantly brought tears to my eyes. This was my home, my favorite place in the world. Now, with two weeks to go, the thought of how much emotional distress this semester has caused me is what makes me cry. I have never felt so stressed out. I’ve never had so much shit hit me at once— not just academically but personally as well. I want to quit. Thank god it’s almost over. Thank god.

I am burned out on discouraging professors, meaningless assignments and the constant depletion of my bank account. I work two jobs, and it’s still not enough to fund the drinking habit that I have grown to depend on to survive this soul-sucking semester.

My advice to those of you who are going to be seniors next year is this: don’t wait to do it. Do the projects, papers and presentations as soon as you can. Find the balance between the need to get hammered and the need to get shit done. It’s not about your ability; it’s about time management. The senioritis is real. Doing things earlier won’t save you, but it’ll help.

When I walk across the stage and shake President Eisler’s hand on May 6, I know there will be tears in my eyes. Not because I’m sad to leave, not because I’m filled with nostalgia and gratitude, but because this whirlwind of stress and anxiety will be over and I will finally, finally be able to return to my usual cheerful yet sassy self. You know, until I have to start repaying my loans. Welcome to adulthood.

I know that with a little distance, I will eventually be grateful for all I’ve learned and experienced here at Ferris. These experiences have undeniably shaped who I am. I’m sure I’ll even be grateful for the primarily horrid experience that this last semester has been. But until then, I give this semester two big middle fingers and a D-Generation X style “SUCK IT.”