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You don’t always notice the exact moment your time as a college freshman ends. Other than a final date of classes, there’s no definitive closing moment, no grand ceremony. It just fades into a blur.

One day you’re fumbling with your student ID trying to get into the dining hall, but the next, you’re walking through campus realizing you won’t ever experience this version of college life again — the wide-eyed, exhilarating kind of year where everything was unfamiliar but also possible.

Freshman year isn’t something you finish; it’s a collection of memories that became part of who I am. And as I sit in the quiet in-between of spring with finals approaching and dorm decorations coming down, I’m feeling a wash of emotions all at once.

The way this year has simultaneously dragged and flowed is strange.

The dragging days felt heavy with homesickness or stress. But when things flowed — in laughter, in late-night walks, in small wins — time felt light, fast and fleeting.

I remember the nerves of move-in day so vividly it feels like yesterday. That awkward, sweaty panic of trying to make friends during orientation week, the hyper-awareness of wanting to click with people instantly, convinced at the time I could speed-run my way into deep friendships.

I thought I had to have it all figured out within the first month. Some friendships fizzled, others bloomed unexpectedly. I’ll cherish the late-night conversations in dorm hallways, inside jokes built into the middle of lectures and the group chats that keep me sane.

I’ve learned this year that connection happens slowly and often unexpectedly. Sometimes, you meet your people in week one. Sometimes, it won’t happen until next semester.

While I figured out my social life, student life kept piling on. The notion of balance felt more like a myth than an aspirational goal.

I pulled all-nighters for midterms I didn’t feel prepared for, ate cereal for dinner more times than I’d like to admit and walked back to my dorm in the middle of the night with a mind so full it felt quiet.

But seeing the silver linings is critical. A surprisingly engaging class discussion and a professor who showed they cared about my wellbeing were moments where I felt a sense of belonging as a college student and at SU.

Standing on the precipice of nine months here, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I won’t ever get this time back.

Not because I want to relive every second, but because I know how much I grew through each one. I entered with preconceived ideas of who I was supposed to be — cool, confident, figured out —- but I’m leaving with something better: a sense of my capabilities when things aren’t perfectly aligned.

This year was honest, not easy. Maybe that’s what freshman year is for everyone — messy, emotional and full of contradictions.

I feel like I’ve lost and found myself within the same week multiple times. When you laugh so hard with friends you just met but it feels like you’ve known them forever, and cry quietly on the phone with someone from home because you miss familiarity. That’s where the emotional whiplash of freshman year unapologetically strikes.

No one told me how strange it feels to build a new life in a new place while your old one carries on without you.

I went home for the breaks this year and realized I didn’t quite fit the same way I used to. But I also didn’t feel completely settled at school yet either. It was like being in limbo. I was emotionally stretched between two versions of myself: the me I was back home and the me I project on campus.

When you start building a new version of yourself, you must realize you’re expanding as a whole person, not cutting away the old you and leaving it behind. Comparison is the thief of joy in college. Everyone’s pretending to have it all figured out, but most people are just as lost and just as eager to connect as you are on the inside.

Doors opened for me the moment I stopped measuring my experience against those of others and began embracing my own pace. Most of all, I learned to be okay with not knowing, living in the questions instead of rushing toward answers.

That necessary patience and grace with myself became one of the most important tools I’ve carried with me in my freshman year journey.

In a couple weeks, I’ll pack up the remnants of this first year — a cracked mug, a stack of notebooks and a playlist for late nights on campus. I won’t just be leaving a dorm room. I’m leaving the most uncertain, beautifully chaotic chapter of my life so far.

It’s bittersweet. This ending doesn’t feel final; it’s more like a comma than a period.

I’m coming to terms with never going through freshman year again. It only happens once because it teaches you lessons meant to last a lifetime.

I learned that growth rarely feels like growth when you’re going through it. It often looks, physically, like sitting in your dorm and wondering if you made connections with the right friends, or walking across campus on a cold morning doubting if you’re cut out for this.

But then one day, you realize you’ve been navigating everything from class schedules to hard conversations to unabating loneliness with more confidence than the previous day.

It cracks open a window into who you’re becoming. And even though it’s ending, your life as an adult is just beginning with the foundational base of freshman year.

Autumn Clarke is a freshman majoring in broadcast and digital journalism. She can be reached at auclarke@syr.edu.

Published on April 8, 2025 at 11:15 pm