How is it already senior year? It had to have just been yesterday that I was moving into the freshman dorms, trying to make everything fit in its new place, and making my mom pop some pills because she wouldn't stop hysterically crying at the fact that her baby was going to college. It was yesterday when I was at our first ever floor meeting with the RA, awkwardly playing ice breakers, and actually ending up making a friend or two out of it, that I could share a lot of new firsts with.
How is it already senior year? Just a second ago, I had FINALLY opened my bid after a long 10 days of sorority recruitment. I had sprinted outside and into the massive crowd of girls to meet my new sisters for the first time. I had them all attack me with hugs, screaming and crying with an overwhelming happiness, welcoming me home. I had gathered up lots of courage to strike up a conversation with a few girls in my new pledge class who were sitting next to me, not knowing that these girls would become some of the best friends I've ever had in my life -- my future roommates, my new family, and my bridesmaids.
How is it already senior year? I should still be taking all Gen Ed classes, exploring what it is that I really want to study, and stop listening to what my parents think I should do. I should still be worrying about whether or not I will get the GPA to be accepted into my major, pulling my first few all-nighters, pounding back pots of coffee, and waiting anxiously for an email to tell me I've made Dean's List for the first time.
How is it already senior year? I had just begun to master the ways of Fratland. All the countless weekends of raiding the closets of my sisters, spending hours and hours perfecting that new eye makeup look, and frying the crap out of my hair with a curling wand. I had just started to learn the ins and outs of dozens of fraternity houses, like which bathroom stall worked the best, the best hiding place for my fracket, and even though I wasn't supposed to know, I found out about those sketchy basement rooms with a don't-ask-don't-tell policy. I had just begun to make lots of new friends in bathrooms, kiss a few boys I shouldn't have, and had my heart broken by one or two who were not worth the tears on my best friend's bedroom floor. I had just begun to have the best times I would sometimes not remember. Why are these carefree and wild weekends coming to an end?
How is it already senior year? Why is it that I have just one more year left to finally live in an apartment for the first time instead of in my sorority house? Why is it that I have only eight more football games in the greatest student section in the country? Why is it that I have only one more dance maraTHON, one more Greek Week, one more Homecoming, and just two more semesters left? Why is it that my memories have to end, and that my time in the place I want to call home forever, is limited?
We blinked, and now it is almost over. We took a deep breath and saw years pass us faster than we ever thought was possible. So, to my fellow classmates of the class of 2016, this year -- this one last year -- has got to count. They say it's the fastest four years of your life. And, damn, they were all too right.
