Spring quarter means at a lot of things at my school. It means sunshine, which is welcomed by many as we brush off the layers of clothing El Niño forced us to don, with its torrential rain and cold winds. It means that summer is only 10 weeks away, which, for many of us, means going home and spending three glorious months basking in the glory of our parents’ bank accounts and being reunited with our dogs and beds. It means happier people, as the season of spring puts a spring in our step and encourages us to be a little happier and brighter with all of the life and beginning around us. But, at my school, most of all, it means parties.

By parties, I mean parties. You have your mixers, where a sorority and a fraternity join forces to come up with the best theme and send the most people home together in one night. You have your kickbacks, where you and a few friends will sit around and just hang out on a casual Thursday night, as opposed to traversing all the way to the bars across campus. You have your darties, where girls dress in as little clothing as possible and everyone throws caution to the wind as they dunk themselves in a pool that is equivalent to a Petri dish, in terms of growing bacteria. No matter what fits your fancy, there is one common theme to each one of these parties: alcohol.

Alcohol is what gives you that little confidence boost to shake it just a little harder on the dance floor. It’s what makes you fearless as you approach that cute boy across the party floor. It’s what shows your friends just how cool and reckless you are. It’s fun to drink. It lowers your inhibitions and helps you let down your guard. There’s nothing more “college” than wrapping your badly manicured fingers around a cracked red Solo cup while you flirt with a wasted frat boy, but behind that sheen of beer foam, there’s a scary, scary reality.

According to the National Institute on Alcoholism and Alcohol Abuse (NIH), four out of every five college students drink. Of those students, about half of them consume alcohol through binge drinking. There are thousands of reports of assault, injury, and even death that result because of alcohol-related incidents. It’s even scarier when you consider that many people consider a single bottle of champagne to be an appropriate pregame and a standard drink is a five-ounce class of wine. Binge drinking is the norm in college. You’re supposed to take pulls of Taaka like you’re chugging water after a long run and shotgun beers in under ten seconds. It’s just what is done and no one ever really questions it.

I’m not here to condemn partying and drinking. I’m a sorority girl in college and I absolutely take part in weekend festivities on a regular basis. Had a good week? I’ll go out to celebrate. Had a bad week? I’ll go out to put it behind me. But recently, I’ve been feeling less and less inclined to go out. Maybe it’s because, for the most part, I hate large crowds of people along with the thought of confining myself to a hot, sweaty dance floor makes me anxious, but I genuinely hate the way it makes me feel. I feel out of control and irresponsible and a little bit guilty. Granted, this is just the way I feel and I would not say that I am the most accurate representation of a quintessential college student, because I am a total homebody and take myself a little too seriously. I think, though, that I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Going out takes so much of you physically, mentally and emotionally. Hangovers, just like drunkenness, only go away with time and rest and, realistically, you can’t do anything well when you’re hungover. You’re sluggish and lazy and a nap sounds like the only thing you can manage. Drinking is a 24-hour ordeal. You can’t have a wild night you barely remember and expect to be fully functioning the next day. And sometimes, you’ll do things that you barely remember and hear about the next day and be embarrassed or filled with regret and it usually only takes 24 hours for everything to be okay, but for those 24 hours it sucks. And beyond that, it'll leave you with one skinny wallet and one bloated stomach. After a long week of classes and work and just existing, all I want to do is get in bed with Dr. McDreamy and my faux fur pillow and wake up the next morning with a new lease on life.

Whether you go out or stay in or whatever else in between, you know what’s best for you and how to live your life. I’m not here as a life coach or anyone with any semblance of authority, but I’m just trying to say be careful. It’s so, so important to take care of this one life you’ve got. Pace yourself, don't underage drink and don’t feel any shame in taking a night off. But by the same respect, don’t forget to live a little. Remember—no good story ever started with a salad.