5 Reasons Why Senior Year Is The Most Depressing Year Of Your Life

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Nice Move

Why Senior Year Is Depressing

I am a huge fan of denial. I have yet to find a time where it is inappropriate.

“Hazing? Can you use that word in a sentence, please?”

“Oh, professor I didn’t know we had to print out the questions! I typed them as notes! I’ll email them to you as soon as possible.”

“Calories don’t count on weekends.”

On and on it goes. Whoever said “ignorance is bliss” deserves to be knighted. Denial’s been something I’ve heavily relied on this year, because I refuse to admit that come May 2014, I will be walking across the stage, grabbing my diploma, and leaving paradise home college forever.

Fuck.

I don’t care what horrid lies you’ve heard, senior year is by far the most depressing year. My freshmen year field hockey season we literally showered our seniors with gifts and appreciation on Senior Day (last home game of the regular season). During the post-season banquet, my coach gave a personal speech dedicated to each senior and gave them even more gifts. When I joined my sorority, the seniors always received special treatment. On Senior Night, we wrote each of them letters about how much we loved them and once again showered them with gifts. I wanted that. I couldn’t wait to be a senior.

Big. Fuckin’. Mistake. Spoiler alert: The gifts and appreciation are to comfort us and to help us cope with the fact we’re almost done. What they should really be doing is handing out prescriptions for Prozac. Why does it suck so bad? Where to begin….

1. You’re constantly reminded that “This is the end.”
If I hear one more goddamn “last move in!” “last fall recruitment!” “last final of fall semester!” I will cunt punt the person who said it so fucking hard, the NFL may recruit me. Every time I hear this, I physically die inside. You’re not funny. You’re not cute. You’re reminding me of my death graduation day. Shut the fuck up. The next time you even think about reminding a senior it is their last anything, do them (and myself) a huge favor and punch yourself in the mouth.

2. Post-grads give their awful two-cents.
“Man, you’re gonna miss this.”

“Don’t ever leave college. STAY HERE FOREVER. CHERISH IT.”

Well, thanks for the goddamn confidence boost, assholes. If I wasn’t already depressed about the end of the greatest four years of my life, you just made me. Probably the best review of the real world I’ve heard is “It’s not that bad”. Oh, fucking really? Not that bad? Having a picture from 2007 come up on all your friends’ news feed isn’t that bad. Sitting through an hour long anti-bullying presentation isn’t that bad. Becoming a real person? Really fucking bad.

3. You finally figured out college.
You finally befriend the bartender at your favorite bar, know where to go for brunch, know which professors don’t give homework, and then you have to leave. Just when life is finally phenomenal, it all gets turned upside down. It’s like giving you a blanket that you cuddle with every day. You know every square inch of that blanket, from the soft spots to where the hem is starting to come undone. Then it’s taken from you, stomped on and burned right in front of your eyes, and you’re expected to carry on and “grow up.” College kicks you out right when you’re comfortable with it. Then, to make matters worse, those blanket-burning bastards leave you just one square of blanket left, to visit and use to remember the good times.

“It’s basically the same thing, you get to remember what you had!”

“But, I want my blanket”

“Well, you can’t have that, but here’s a small token to remember it by! Also donate money to us so we keep doing this!”

This is Homecoming, everyone. Here, enjoy ONE weekend of epic to remind you of everything that made you happy, then go back to work for 362 days until we do it again.

Fuckers.

4. There’s nothing to look forward to.
Senior year of high school you were going onto college. You have everything to be excited about. Even after every finals week, there is always the promise of going back and doing more crazy shit. Now, it’s going into the “Real World.” Am I suppose to be happy? Excited? Riddle me this: What is so fucking exciting about working 40+ hours? Or paying rent? Car payments? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOTHING. The real world sucks more dick than a porn star.

5. “What are your plans after graduation?”
Moving back into my parents’ house and realizing how my degree is essentially worthless! Thank you for reminding me! Or maybe accepting a job for which I’m so overqualifed, and blacking out at happy hour just to feel something. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fucking hangover — it’s something. My plans immediately after graduation? Going to the bar after the ceremony to drown my sorrows. Thanks for asking.

I really want to end this with “It’ll get better,” but who am I kidding? We are so fucked. The only thing we can do is drink and deny. So, cheers everyone. I’ll be blacking out now.

Hakuna Moscato (@HakunaMoscato) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move. and Post Grad Problems. A born and raised Maryland girl, she's obsessed with the Baltimore Ravens, Old Bay, and anything that has the Maryland flag pattern on it. She's a newly retired student-athlete and sorority girl, but not quite ready to call herself an adult, especially since she still has to be carried out of bars. With a Long Island in hand, she's ready for whatever life is throwing her way. Maybe.

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