I don’t think I’ve quite grasped the extent of graduation yet. Whenever I scroll through old photos or see a former classmate’s Instagram post, I sometimes forget we’ve graduated. Subconsciously, I think about conversations we could have when we run into each other. It’s like a small jolt when I remember I might never see them again.
On my social media feed, there are close friends and acquaintances from freshman year I barely remember. There are people I’ve wanted to talk to for four years, and there are people I only befriended last semester. I was thinking about a joke I wanted to tell my writing club, but I realized everyone who would get the reference has graduated. I keep forgetting they won’t be here next semester.
I felt this way at the end of high school, but because my high school was smaller, it was more tight-knit than Berkeley. So I expected to feel nostalgic afterwards. College is so big that I thought I wouldn’t miss many people, aside from my friends. I’ve experienced a growing awareness of how important the everyday strangers were to me. I never thought about approaching people who seemed out of reach; I used to think they were too cool or too out of my league to talk to. Maybe I’d meet them in a future class or club. But there’s no more chance of that happening. And I wish I hadn’t let my perceptions stop me.
Graduation made me realize how much of a bubble college is. Maybe someone was the president of several clubs, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into career or life success. I previously wrote about feeling burnt out from academics and extracurriculars. I have friends who were less involved in clubs/school compared to me, but they still have very hopeful future plans. Others who did more than me are worried about their job prospects. Part of this is because of the economy, of course, but it also made me realize that we all ended up with the same(ish) degree. Having better or worse grades doesn’t change that; we’ve all been granted this certificate of qualification. What you do after matters more than your major or the clubs you joined. Becoming an adult means figuring out your purpose and what makes you happy while balancing practical necessities.
Postgrad is like an open-ended question. As I prepare for the upcoming semester, I’ve realized my friends aren’t bound by the school year anymore. I’ve had people tell me it feels freeing to have time to yourself. They’ve gone on international trips and worked on passion projects. Grades are no longer the all-encompassing metric of success.
I also realized I can stack degrees, which is really exciting. As long as I can pay for tuition, I can do more masters programs or eventually get a PhD. I can still go to law school, or I could get involved in media research. I’m not bound by my first postgrad choice.
I have the freedom to do anything I want (within financial constraints). And that’s kind of scary? It’s like choice overload. I don’t know what to do with that responsibility. I don’t know if I feel prepared to make those big decisions. But luckily, neither does anyone else I know. And it feels much better to be confused with people than confused alone.
We make fun of each other for being “old,” but we’re still so young. It’s weird to be old enough to recognize how young you are. I’ve seen enough influencers talk about their mid-30s life realizations to know a lot will change. There’s probably other bubbles I’m trapped in right now, other perspectives I won’t be able to see from until later. I can’t learn something I haven’t experienced. I just have to take things day by day.
This year, I don’t want to regret missing out on friendships and relationships. I want to work on the beliefs that made me miss out in the first place. And I want to de-prioritize academics as my main standard of success. I’d rather figure out how to combine my interests with a job that financially supports me.
2 years from now, I’ll have post-postgrad realizations. Wish me luck!