And just as quickly as it arrived, Thanksgiving break is now gone. How miserable it is to look forward to something for so long only to have it feel as though we missed it entirely. Whereas we started the break optimistic about its potential (it's always hilarious how much we really believe we're going to get done, isn't it?), we are ultimately left bloated, hungover, and terrified in its wake. Instead of looking forward to a time of rest, we're now staring straight ahead at the mounds of work we'd strategically avoided up until this point.

Honestly, nothing is worse than finally having to face post-break reality. The papers and projects you were going to have done by the end of the first day of break are not only still untouched by the last day, but have somehow only accumulated in the brief period of time you weren't thinking about them. As you napped in post-feast bliss, the impending doom of real life snuck in and reared its ugly head; you should've seen it coming, but you never do.

For everyone left scurrying at the last minute to complete overdue assignments, write essays you probably should have started the first week of class, and attempt against all odds to cram weeks of research into a few short hours, I salute you. It is not your fault; you have merely fallen victim to the Thanksgiving break productivity illusion. Something about this particular holiday break is unfairly cruel, making us believe that we can and will somehow accomplish all we need to do and more, allowing us to stuff our backpacks to the brim with textbooks even though they will only collect dust in the corner of our bedrooms for the entirety of the break.

I don't know how it always manages to fool us. Especially at this point in our lives, you know? Like, shouldn't we know better than to push things off until Thankgiving? Shouldn't we understand that this has never even once worked out the way we anticipated? Shouldn't we remember what happened last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and so on? Have we selectively forgotten the particular stress that comes from waking up on that Sunday morning before classes start up again and realizing absolutely nothing got done in between all the Nexflix we watched, afternoons spent with family and friends, and hours laying comatose on the couch for no reason at all?

We must stand in solidarity with one another, now more than ever. If you recognize someone on campus wearing the same exhausted expression that you saw in the mirror that morning, looking at you with the same dead eyes and weighed down more by their metaphorical woes than by their backpacks, empathize with them. Maybe offer them a sip of your coffee, a pat-on-the-back, or even a nod of recognition at their plight. It will probably mean more than you think, and it offers a much needed — if fleeting — moment of reprieve.

Stay strong, fellow students. We're in crunch time now. I believe in you.