Hoooo boy. Well, it’s coming to the end of my second year of college, and wow, what an experience. It has not been the transformative, liberating dreamscape that was promised to me. Not the one all the adults hyped up. Instead of the “best time of my life,” it’s been… the opposite. And yet, here I am, still cramming 18 units into every semester because I cannot wait to get out.
I was promised freedom, a chance to experiment, break away from the controlling chains of high school teachers, explore life, and make those mythical “lifelong friends” in the dorms. But god, that has not been my reality. In class, I might as well be a foreign object for all the stares I get. The professors? Just as rigid as high school teachers, if not worse. (Looking at you, Adrian—Mr. “Students cannot ask the professor for help on homework” in the syllabus. And let’s not even talk about how you ignore my accommodations, or how the school has done nothing to help.)
Making friends should be easier, right? But somehow, after high school, I think I forgot how to mask…Friendship that feels impossible. Maybe I forgot how to mask after high school. Maybe I’m too queer, too neurodivergent, too much for the business majors around me. Whatever it is, the loneliness is heavy. Maybe it really is just the business major crowd, but college has been lonely. Every adult swore it’d be where I found my people, that high school friendships wouldn’t matter, but for me? It’s been the opposite. College is isolating. Exhausting. And honestly? I miss high school. Back then, things were easy. I had friends—so many of them—in art and theater. I had time for my passions and for people. Now? I’m an art kid trapped in business classes, and it fucking sucks.
I wish I could make money off my passions. My dream job? Art teacher. But we all know that doesn’t pay enough, not in this economy, and definitely not if I want to escape the U.S. with all its anti-trans laws. (FUCK TRUMP. AND ELON TOO.) So here I am, grinding toward becoming a data analyst. It’s kinda cool, I guess? Or at least, it’s the only thing I semi-like enough to chase as a career.
The light at the end of the tunnel? I should be done in two more semesters. Should. That’s if I don’t fail anything, and—somehow—manage to enroll in the classes I need before they instantly fill up. (Seriously, who’s snatching these spots? Do they have a bot army, or is registration just designed to torture me?)
At least the campus squirrels are nice.