I remember the long daunting days trudging to class with an array of books slowly slipping out of my arms, but still maintaining composure to not fall flat on my face in the midst of the confident seniors: people who somehow appeared to know exactly how to act, even though most undoubtedly masqueraded—flawlessly, I might add—throughout the halls. How I immensely wished to be them and to acquire their apparent profound understanding of college life. I ached for my college life to cease existing. I wanted to taste the victory of my graduation day just as those seniors could. I imagined walking across that stage. I could smell the old musty paper from inside the leather bound plaque. I imagined the relief to never need to attend college classes again.
As a college graduate, I envy those freshmen: these students anxiously want to graduate, just as I did six years ago. (Yes, six. Thank you indecisive mind for changing majors three times.) I observe first year students rolling their eyes and sighing while gossiping about the oh-so-horrendous attendance rule. I want to sit these students down and advise them to just surrender themselves to knowledge and to everything college offers. I want to tell them to not let college fly by, but instead, let it progress slowly and let their minds become sponges.
I think what my 200+ word blog post boils down to three little words: I miss school.