Two weeks ago, two of the closest friends I could ever have strutted across a stage, proudly took hold of their diplomas and confidently stepped into the frightening, yet exciting abyss that is the “real world.” I watched from the nosebleed section in the stands as each one took the plunge, leaving me cheering them on from the high dive, wondering if I’ll too ever get the chance to jump.

Sitting there, bouquets in hand, I realized that I had broken the master plan, this irrefutable timeline.

One year of pre-school, six years of elementary school, two years of middle school, four years of high school, another four years of undergraduate college…

Overwhelmed yet?

And there are still two to six more years of timeline for those of us who haven’t gone insane… or bankrupt, the M.A.’s and the Ph.D.S.

It’s over twenty years of routine. You go to class, do your work and nine months later you move up a level. Summer ends and, again, you go to harder classes, do tougher work and another nine months later you move up another level with much of the same people that have similar aspirations and expectations.

But what happens when you stop moving up and two decades of expectations blow up in your face? When you realize that you actually had to work at climbing each level and that progressing wasn’t the natural order of things, wasn’t something that you were owed?

You end up like me, holding your friends’ balloons, flowers, and plushy graduation teddy bears while they take photos with their families.

I was bitter when I first found out that I wouldn’t be graduating on time. I cursed the school and blamed my program. I hated everyone in my class who was leaving me behind.

I was filled with shame and anger, and I wanted it to be anyone else’s fault but my own. It took me forever to figure out that me not graduating this year isn’t anybody’s fault, and it definitely isn’t something that I should be ashamed or angry about.

If you were supposed to graduate this year but didn’t and are feeling the same way I did, don’t!

Here are five reasons why I’m more than happy being a “Super Senior,” a four years and counting undergraduate student and why you should be too:

1. You did it for you

I came into Stony Brook University with an “area of interest” in pre-pharmacology, my rookie mistake.

I was encouraged to pursue a medical career by my parents, grandparents, distant cousins, friends of the family who basically are family, and anyone else with an opinion. They all saw me in a white coat and heavily padded sneakers; everyone except for me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to be a real-life Gregory House or Meredith Grey, but I’m terribly squeamish when it comes to blood… or anything gross and squishy, really. Show me the inside of a body and I’ll show you the dinner inside my stomach. It’s that bad.

So I mindlessly wandered into a medical field that was separate from the guts, the gore and frequent glory. And it was great until I realized it actually wasn’t. I was kidding myself. More importantly, I was killing myself with excruciating boredom in a track that wasn’t even an official major.

I eventually had enough by the end of my sophomore year. I dropped almost all hope of making a six-figure salary and followed my passion for writing, which led me to discover an even bigger passion for journalism. I love what I do, and I do it very well.

My change pushed me back a year, but what’s one more year compared to decades of fulfillment?

I chose me, and that was no mistake.

2. Room for improvement

A month ago I met with my undergraduate director to make sure an extra year is all I’ll be spending a Stony Brook. Thankfully he said yes it would be, but that wasn’t all he said.

“This doesn’t make much sense. You have a poor G.P.A but you’re doing very well in all of your major classes: A, A, A-, B+, A…”

I then got to awkwardly and very embarrassingly explain to him how I was an absolutely terrible student before I switched majors. I was the worst.

I once went to take a test for one of my classes and didn’t understand a single question. I know people say that all the time, but I literally could not answer any of them. I spent the hour and a half drawing doodles in the blank spaces so no one could tell that I was completely freaking out. When I went to turn in my masterpieces, the T.A. had the pleasure of telling me that I wasn’t even in the class. This was a test for calculus II, and I was in pre-calc. By the time I had gotten out of the wrong test, it was too late for me to go to the right one.

That’s the thing about going to class; you learn very important information, like where the exam will be held and what’s going to be on it.

But that day was about as funny as it got.

I didn’t like the path that I was on. I didn’t want to be a pharmacist. In fact, I had no idea what I wanted to be, but I knew that wasn’t it. Everyone else had a plan. They all had goals and aspirations along with ways to reach both. All I wanted to do was to binge-watch Netflix and eat pizza. I dreamed of being a couch potato and it got me really depressed.

I started failing out of school. I stopped going to class. I didn’t turn in assignments. I didn’t show up to tests. I hid my grades from my parents and lied to them when they asked to see how I was doing. But when I was put on academic probation, I couldn’t hide anymore. My G.P.A had fallen to 1.8. I was at the end of the road. I could just stop, or I could turn back and fight my way back uphill.

Two years later, I never miss a class. I complete my work, and I even take on extra credit. I put my effort into everything that I do. I’m exhausted. I’m stressed. I’m overworked, and I’m incredibly happy.

I’m now at a 2.9, and I finally have a goal. I want a 3.0 by the time I finish school. If I graduated this year, I would never have reached my goal. I would’ve left knowing that I was that close, but this extra year gives me two more chances to reach and exceed a 3.0.

If you also set goals, like wanting a better G.P.A, you now have that chance, so take advantage of it.

3. The freedom to experiment

This could be taken two ways. You could live vicariously through your freshman self and give responsibilities and cares the bird, or you can leave the past behind and create an even better future.

I want to take chances. Meet new people. See amazing things.

Take classes because you’re interested in them and not because you have to. Pick up an internship and then pick up another because you don’t have to get a job yet. You just have to get your name out there. Study abroad in a mysterious foreign land because you still can. Fall in love with someone who’s different from you and share your last year of carefree youth together. Travel anywhere you can because there’s no nine to five job keeping you at home.

Almost any adult will tell you that college will be the best years of your life, and now we have an extra one!

4. Home isn't where the heart is

I go to school in New York, but I’m from a small town in the middle of northeast Tennessee called Mountain City. There are about 2,000 people, dozens of churches, somewhere around four banks, three pharmacies and three grocery stores. It’s a cozy place, but it can also be a very boring place. College was my ticket out of my small town, and I took it the first chance I got.

When I graduate, it’s back to Mountain City for me, at least for a little while.

I love my home, I really do. But I’m not ready to go back. This southern belle loves her Yankee life, and I don’t want to trade skyscrapers for mountains just yet. My big city dream is still alive and well, and now I get to keep it that way. And so do you.

Wherever you are. Wherever it is that you chose to go, relish in the fact that you’re still there.

5. The people who changed your life in just four years

I left this one for last because it’s without a doubt the most important reason why I’m so glad I didn’t graduate on time. I thoroughly believe that our elders say that college is the best time of our lives because we are surrounded by some of the best people we will ever meet in our lives.

Moving into my freshman dorm suite was a ridiculously terrifying experience. I actually watched my parents drive out of the parking lot, leaving me behind in a room of five strangers.

I can’t tell you how many times I was told that I’d never become friends with my roommates and that joining clubs was the only way to meet people. But that night, six people who knew nothing about each other sat down and introduced themselves.

Today, they’re family; they’re memories, laughs and tears. Friendships built on late night food runs, binge shopping sprees, midnight heart to hearts, movie nights, the city, horrific selfies, college parties, stupid boys who crushed our hearts and stupid tests that crushed our grades.

They’re my world. But they live in New York.

If not for any other reason, appreciate the fact that not graduating on time gives you more days with the ones who make those days well worth living.