Honestly, my freshman year has been rough. With the school year coming to a rapid end, I've seen more and more articles, and heard more and more people at my school, reminiscing on their freshman year and expressing their excitement for next fall. However, I can't help but feel a little left out in this, because, well, I didn't really get that amazing freshman year that so many people claim to have had.
I promise that this isn't just me feeling sorry for myself or throwing myself a pity party. I've mentioned in some of my other articles that I didn't exactly have the smoothest first semester; and while spring's been a bit better, there's still that feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'm not at the right place. Not that this wasn't something I didn't know coming into college—I'll be honest, I'm at my back-up school. The college I applied to just in case everything went to shit. This fact hasn't exactly made it easy for me to answer the "So why did you choose UWO?" question that I've heard about five million times between last May and now. There's not really any polite way to say, "This was my last resort." I've usually gone with a shrug and "The cost, mostly," hoping that the conversation would end there.
Amidst all of this, I can't help but notice the other students on campus who, even though they may not be thrilled to be here—because let's face it, no one is thrilled about going to class at nine in the morning—still seem content, still seem satisfied, still seem like they belong. My campus is overrun with a small town/suburban-Wisconsin white kids, with Patagonia puffer vests, Nike baseball caps and a general sense of apathy towards anything or anyone that deviates from what they know as the "norm." Of course, this isn't everyone on our campus, my small circle of friends being a good example of the exception.
Still, though, I constantly feel like there's almost no one on this campus who shares my interests or my passions, and I'm not gonna lie: it sucks. It's hard seeing my best friends from high school posting snaps from their schools, in their respective urban cities, with their huge, close friend groups having the time of their lives. My heart couldn't help but ache a few days ago when I saw my friend in Chicago post a picture with her college friends, flipping off the Trump Tower. Whenever I see posts from them, or from people at this school that absolutely love it here, I can't help but think: Why don't I have that?
It's not fun being stuck at a school you didn't want to be at. The good news, though, is just that: I'm not truly stuck here—at least, not forever. I have all the motivation in the world to work my ass off for at the least the next two semesters so that I can transfer to where I want to be by spring semester of my sophomore year. College is tricky as hell, and especially when there's so much pressure to get your school right the first time, it can be devastating when your college experience isn't the dream you pictured it to be.
So, to my college—my professors, my friends, the people in my classes, the kids I see walking around campus and will never talk to, even the Dean of students—I'll say this: Thank you for showing me where I belong. That it's not here, not in this state, and not in any city that has a population of anything less than 500,000. I may have had a bumpy ride my first year of college here, but at least now I can be absolutely sure that I'm on the exact right track to go anywhere else.
