As I walk down Bay State Road on my way to my class, I hear birds chirp and watch colorful leaves fall. My boots click and clack as they hit the cobblestone, and I try to make sure the wind doesn’t ruin my hair.
I finally arrive at my journalism class and sit down, embarrassed by the amount of joy a simple walk to class brought me. I think to myself: I am in such an uneventful chapter of life.
The concept of college used to be so exciting. In high school, I imagined I would be one of the cool, college girls depicted in movies — the one who parties all the time, doesn’t sleep, spends all her money and travels the world, all while working a full-time internship and maintaining a 4.0 GPA.
This kind of on-the-edge living — wild but perfect — is the standard I held myself to when I entered college.
I wanted to live with no regrets. I saw my parents light up when recalling the exact years I am experiencing. They told exciting stories, mourning their college years. Listening to these stories, I put so much pressure on myself to make unforgettable moments of my own.
I tried forcing myself to enjoy fraternities. I pulled all-nighters, splurged on clothes and pretended I liked wearing pajamas to class and feeling awful on a Sunday morning.
Turns out, I am human, and these expectations set me up for failure. My face broke out with acne, I was broke, miserable and had no clue who I even was anymore.
It took me a while, and even transferring schools, to realize that the problem was not me — it was the version of college I was looking for.
Sure, maybe some of you live the college dream I described. But the hidden truth reveals itself: Not everyone is made for that lifestyle. And I am sick of pretending like I am. My experiences are mine.
If you keep doing things you dislike, you will become someone you dislike.
The times I have spent forcing myself to make stories like my parents, or those perfectly messy college girls, were times I could have been making my own.
My truth: I hate going to sweaty fraternities. I need my beauty sleep, and spending money stresses me out. I would much rather have deep conversations in my dorm, watch the sunset on the bridge to Cambridge and people-watch on Newbury Street.
The hardest part, though, is not admitting this — even though that part is tough and feels embarrassing. The truly challenging part is accepting the loneliness that comes along with it.
Most college students would jump at the opportunity to go party at a fraternity, and that is okay, too. But if you’re not like that, it can feel isolating.
I wake up, go to class, work at my internship, do homework and go to sleep. For fun, I write, take walks and go grocery shopping. Occasionally, my loved ones visit me, and overall, I am happy and confident.
There is too much expectation to get the “college experience.” In reality, your college experience is what you want it to be.
We are in an awkward transition between children and adults — a time when we’re supposed to find ourselves. But we can not grow if we try to fit in a box that everyone else thinks of as the ideal college life.
Society’s idea of the “college experience” presents a microcosm of a bigger issue. Humans associate chaos with excitement and simplicity with failure. However, living a peaceful routine does not mean your life isn’t fulfilling.
Tonight, I came home from work and did my laundry. I walked to Trader Joe’s while listening to Fleetwood Mac and bought my favorite chocolate-covered marshmallows. I picked up beautiful flowers and browsed at T.J. Maxx. Now, I’m sitting in my dorm eating ramen and writing this article.
While on my little adventure, it occurred to me that my past self would be so eager to get to where I am now.
At this age, it is beneficial to step back and reflect on how happiness is defined. Society presents happiness as chaos and fun all the time, and this is simply unrealistic. Sometimes, this expectation can take away from the beauty in everyday encounters.
So, while I am not a crazy college girl, and I do not have the experience of my parents, I have my own stories. If they are deemed uneventful, I do not care.
My college experience is mine. It’s not hectic, it’s not messy, but it’s me. And in the end, isn’t that all that matters?
