The End of an Era

I’m sitting on my bedroom floor, back against the bedframe and feet pressing on a large moving box. I’ve already filled six of them, and somehow, it seems as if I barely removed anything from the closets and drawers. I look around, trying to imprint in my mind these last moments in that flat. In a few days, I’ll move out, and in a few weeks, I’ll be done with my degree. After six years of student life, it’s about to come to an end. I grab a pile of Polaroid pictures standing next to a half-eaten pack of cookies and go through them slowly. Most are pictures of my friends. At the end of the pile is an old photo of my first love. At the top, a picture of my most recent heartbreak. As I try to recall where and when each of these pictures was taken, I am struck by how much has happened in the past few years. By how much I learned, felt, experienced, discovered, and loved.

All in all, what was student life?

It was getting blacked out drunk and high as a kite. It was dancing on bars, sharing deep secrets with people I never saw again, and listening to drunken confessions from strangers. It was kissing girls and boys and hooking up in filthy bathrooms and empty corridors.

It was piling up with friends in beds, couches, and air mattresses in tiny bedrooms. It was sharing endless laughs, ups, downs, dreams, hopes, fears and love with them. It was making new friends and missing the old ones.

It was burning meals and eating raw because I’m forgetful and impatient. It was falling off bikes and peeing behind parked cars, giggling, hand in hand with people I’d known for two days or ten years.

It was falling in love, getting hurt, swearing I’d never do it again. It was falling in love again, getting hurt, but knowing it would heal with time. It was breaking someone’s heart and feeling like shit.

It was travelling across Europe on shitty buses and endless trains. It was eating bread and hummus three days in a row because we were broke, and sleeping in sketchy hostels that smelled like tuna.

It was screaming at parties and screaming at people. It was seeing my friends falling in love, going through breakups, coming back from one-night stands, going on dates, hating it, loving it, getting bored, crying, laughing, sometimes questioning everything.

It was doing pre-drinks while getting ready, enjoying the pre’s more than the actual party, arriving there drunk and leaving too drunk.

It was crying because I felt completely lost. It was dreaming and doubting, but never regretting anything. It was being impulsive, irrational, loud, and reckless.

It was this strange feeling of not being home at home and being a foreigner abroad. It was finding my place in an unexpected space.

It was saying many hellos and many goodbyes. It was crossing paths with people I will never forget and forgetting about many people I met.

Mostly, it was people.

That’s what I realised during these hectic years. People matter more than any job, trip, or opportunity. I might not know what tomorrow’s holding for me, but I do know it won’t only be about me. And I’m so fucking excited.

Finally, for this last blog, I want to leave you with a quote from Fleabag: “People are all we’ve got. So grab the night by its nipples and go flirt with someone.”

Thanks for reading. Here’s to what’s next.