It is a truth universally acknowledged that we tend to covet what we can’t have — I’m sure even Jane Austen herself would concede this. Whether this be your friend’s ex-boyfriend, the latest pair of Yeezys or that one sweater you once saw online, didn’t buy and have spent the past six months trying to find it again, this statement holds true. This truth, however, seems never more applicable than to the University. Your relationship with the University and Charlottesville might just be the most complicated of all, without you realizing it.
In what other context do you experience the same feelings of resentment that surface while sitting in Clem at 3 a.m. on a Monday, and the same sense of contentment and belonging when surrounded by friends and familiar surroundings? For the first three and a half years, utterings of “I can’t wait for summer” and “Get me out of here” are part of nearly every conversation that you find yourself having as the end of term nears. Charlottesville suddenly seems smaller and more claustrophobic than ever, while the walk to the library seems to take longer every day. You can’t wait to get out and return home where papers and deadlines are a distant and blurry memory.
When you come back from winter break of your fourth year, however, everything suddenly changes. The exasperation with only having two bars on the Corner suddenly turns into an appreciation for the intimate and overly-familiar nights out. The constant annoyance with running into 10 people you know when you are tired and hungover at the library suddenly makes you confront the enormity of an upcoming move to a big and unknown city where you know only a few people.
You walk into 7 Day and realise that you might never see Rohan again. There is a sudden wave of gratitude for the small things that you generally don’t notice and, most of all, a sudden frenzy to do all of the things that have passed you by in the short four years that you have been here. As each deadline that passes, you realize that there will reach a point where there is only one paper or final that stands between you and the “real-world.”
Why is it then, that we have such a problem letting things go? As the “Facebook generation,” we will always be up to date with what that girl in your first-year class — what was her name again? — is up to and will never be more than a phone-call away from each of your friends. This fact, however, inspires little solace as the final date approaches. Mentions of graduation become banned for fear of getting too emotional, and instead we choose not to believe that it is really happening.
My advice? Be thankful for the fact that you feel strongly enough about somewhere that the thought of leaving fills you with dread. This means, probably, that you have done something right. You have made relationships that are hard to leave behind and made a connection with a place that you will look fondly back always. If you and your friends are all moving to different corners of the globe, as mine are, think of it as the most wonderful thing that wherever you go in America or in the world, you will have someone to stay with and see.
Leaving anything behind is difficult, particularly something that you have spent time and emotion cultivating. The alternative, however, is less appealing. If the idea of seeing 18 year olds at a frat party fills you with dread, or if the prospect of queuing for Roots every day for yet another year makes you feel a little queasy, then you are probably ready to leave.
Appreciate all that you have done here for what it is — what was always going to be only four years — and cherish every moment.