On a bright spring morning, I woke up (to my very shock) NOT to the sounds of birds banging their heads against the Jonas Brothers Hall windows and chirping extremely loudly. Instead, I found myself in a small bedroom, laying on a twin-sized bed with thin white rumpled sheets. What is going on? I get out of the bed slowly to try to interpret where I am.
Suddenly, thoughts came pouring into my brain with such rapidness that I stumbled backward with the need to steady myself. Whoa. I remembered. I was a senior. I somehow must have teleported into the mind and body of a senior. I could not believe I was so naive to think that I could escape the side effects of the water main break. The raw, unfiltered water straight from the Hudson River must have made its way through the water pipes and somehow snaked down into my esophagus without me knowing. Fascinating. I traversed through my newly acquired memories as if I was rewinding old tapes to see what my life looked like as a senior. I found my morning routine:
I wake up every morning and think to myself, “This is it. The last stretch. Just keep going. You don’t even have class today, unlike the other two days of the week.” Then I haul myself out of bed, drag my feet across my over-expensive two-bedroom apartment that housed five people, step over a person who I hope is my roommate, and go to the bathroom to tell myself my daily affirmations. “Snevets got nothing on you. If you can deal with the constant rejections from internships, you can deal with anything,” I tell myself as I splash cold water on my face. “Let’s survive today,” as I brush my teeth. “You got this,” as I point at myself in the mirror. I walk out of the bathroom with my newfound motivation to open my laptop only to sigh heavily at the big letters that screamed SENIOR DESIGN PROJECT. I then tell myself “Meh, I have time,” and go to my bed to take a quick nap.
Wow. What a wildly exciting day. I can’t wait to walk onto campus with such confidence knowing fully well that I am one step closer to my midlife crisis. Or wait, did it start already?
Disclaimer: this article is a part of The Stupe and is satire
