Dear You,

This is it - you're going to college. You are at such an exciting time in your life. You have four full years of college ahead of you. Maybe you know exactly where you want to go. Maybe you are on the fence. Maybe making a decision scares you as much as it scares me.

If your decision's not mailed in, let me help you decide. Let me tell you a little bit about being a Tar Heel.

Being a Tar Heel means...

Tradition, when the students line up to take a sip from the Old Well on the first day of classes, praying for that 4.0.

Chaos, when it's Saturday night on the P2P.

And camaraderie, when every person on the P2P (driver included) breaks out into the national anthem and friendships are formed.

Stamina, when you put your research paper off a little longer than you meant to, so you claim your favorite spot in the library for the next eight hours with an ample supply of coffee.

And then taking a breather, when your paper's turned in; the weather is sunny and seventy, and the Quad is inviting you to lounge in its grass.

Admiration, like the way you feel towards Roy and his goofy, granddaddy-like smile.

Energy, when you're in the Pit at noon and there's an a cappella group singing on your left, a dancing group performing on your right, and popping a squat on some bricks never felt so good.

Legacy, like the one Coach Smith left, as exhibited in his request to treat all of his players to dinner after he passed.

Teamwork, when the anonymous giraffe answers the anonymous gopher's question and the anonymous zebra expands on that point on the midterm study guide class Google doc.

Unity, like when the entire student body came together in a time of tragedy.

Flowers, when it's spring and picture perfect bubbles of red hug the Old Well.

School spirit, deeper than a Philosophy 101 lecture, especially when competing with the school 8 miles down the road.

Reassurance, when an anonymous post on Spotted at UNC restores your faith in humanity.

Competition, when your inter-mural inner tube water polo team has made it to the championship game.

Speed walking, when chimes of the clock tower remind you that you're late for class.

And running, when you've beat Duke, and 1.6 miles stand between the Dean Dome and Franklin Street.

Satisfaction, when you're out on Franklin at 2 a.m. and you decide to splurge and "double your dog."

Adventure, when you study abroad and the food is as unfamiliar as the language.

Family, when late night study sessions with your roommates turn into deep, late night conversations.

And bittersweet, when you purchase your cap and gown and realize just how lucky you are to have something that makes saying good-bye so difficult.

Being a Tar Heel means opening your soul to something that will forever be a part of it. It means taking a path you will not regret. I hope you choose to experience this magic for yourself.

Sincerely,

A Friend Who Was Once in Your Shoes