At the moment, I’m sitting in the library on a Saturday surrounded by many of my fellow peers, who smell of the cheap booze from last night as they bury their faces, awash with nausea and regret, into the textbooks they opened only last week. Ten weeks have flown by and now the students of Santa Clara University find themselves face-to-face with one of three weeks in the school year when students swap in their red Solo cups for Starbucks tumblers and stay awake into the wee hours of the night in the library rather than roaming Bellomy Street. It’s finals week, my friends, and there’s nothing we can do about it but wipe our tears with old notes and accept the fact that Benson coffee tastes like actual dirt but gets the job done.

I’d had finals in high school, so I figured I knew exactly what to anticipate going into my freshman year of college come finals week. But I quickly learned that high school finals pale in comparison to finals in college. The first final I ever had was for my entry-level psychology course, and I have never experienced such a blow to my confidence as I did on that fine Monday evening. I had studied what I believed to be above an adequate level and I felt that I was absolutely going to ace the exam, but as soon as I sat down and began, I experienced a feeling similar to being punched in the stomach and kicked in the shin while simultaneously being forced to listen to Nickelback on high volume. The questions were worded in such a way that you couldn’t not sit there and question everything you thought you new about the English language, and I discovered all too quickly that multiple choice was created by Satan himself. I walked out of the exam and promptly called my mother, sobbing and telling her that my life was in shambles and I had no worth or purpose in this world so I might as well just drop out and come home (she shot down this idea very quickly).

And so I find myself scrambling yet again to learn everything about, well, everything in the span of 48 hours for the fourth time in my college career. You think that by now I’d have some semblance of the known fact that you really should start studying a week before a test, but with a little bit (a lot) of Red Bull and strong-willed determination, anything is possible, even learning the basic fundamentals of organic chemistry in a time-span that can only be called ambitious. Listen, we all know we do it: cramming. There is really no worse way to learn material, but we’re not all perfect, okay? The key to cramming is the library. Now, many choose to avoid the library because in all honesty, it’s basically an excuse to socialize with your friends and post Snapchats of you pretending to be studious with your fancy colored pens and Erin Condren planner. But for me, just the atmosphere of the good old library inspires me to be studious. I don’t know whether or not it’s the scent of the pages of the books that haven’t been used for studying since probably 1987 or the other students furiously scribbling away in their notebooks, but something about the library elicits within me the sense that I’m at college for some purpose other than going out on the weekends and watching Netflix in my twin extra-long bed.

The only time I seem to consistently go to the gym is during finals week, and I’m fairly certain it’s because it’s the perfect excuse to not study while still being able to argue to my mother that I’m being productive in some way (and to watch Netflix as I pant excessively on the elliptical). But honestly, the gym is the perfect escape from studying for an hour. You get your blood pumping all while sweating out the toxins that are undoubtedly clouding your judgment and studying abilities. Remembering to take care of yourself between all the note-taking mayhem is so important during finals week. Eat a good breakfast, go for a jog, take a hot shower, and your studying experience will be all the more enjoyable—if that’s even possible. You’ll find that you sleep better and focus better and have fewer inexplicable emotional episodes involving crying and self-loathing if you just take an hour out of the day to take care of you, rather than spending that inevitable hour of procrastination taking your sixth nap of the day or eating an entire box of Hot’N’Spicy Cheez-its. You can’t forget that under all the piles of class notes and Bobo’s Oat Bars wrappers there’s a reason you’re killing yourself studying: you’re trying to do your best.

My older sister once came from school, panicked and hysterical over her poor performance on a science test earlier that day. My little brother responded to her insanity and irrationality with the simplest yet most profound sentence I have ever heard a seven-year-old say: “Yeah, but it’s over.” Sure, you can beat yourself up for not studying enough or for skipping class that one time or not reading enough, but when you pass in that exam, it’s over. There’s no point in going back and checking that definition only to find you got it wrong or asking a classmate what they got as for their answer to the last question. It’s over, and there’s nothing you can do but believe that you tried your best and that all is right in the world. Your performance on this one exam doesn’t define you as a person. Sure, your grade might drop and you might not do as well in the class or you might have to retake the class to get a better grade, but this final doesn’t say anything about whom you are.

This finals week, don’t lose your mind over spending the most hours humanly possible in the library or drinking an undeniably unhealthy amount of caffeinated beverages or calling your mom more than twice (a day) about your emotional well-being, or lack thereof. Remember that you’re doing your best, and that’s more than good enough. You’re a wonderful person, regardless of what your grades are. You aren’t going to walk into a job interview someday and be interrogated what your grade was in your OMIS 40 course your sophomore year; no, your future employers and, quite frankly, everyone you meet in your life will look at you and ask themselves whether or not you’re a good person who will bring positivity and greatness into the workplace or their lives. I’m not trying to say that grades don’t matter, because they do, especially if you’re applying to law school or medical school or whatever. I’m just trying to say that at the end of the day, you can only do your best. Put down your pen and breathe; this is only one long week in the midst of many, many wonderful weeks yet to come.