They call it senioritis.
It’s an easy way for professors to call you out on that strange mix of exhaustion, apathy, and “just get me to graduation already.”
But I think there’s more to it than that.
It’s not really laziness. It’s not even burnout.
It’s the quiet, creeping realization that life as I know it is about to change forever.
There’s a looming fear that comes with the word adulthood.
The kind of fear that has sat in my chest late at night, heavy and unmoving, when I think about what’s next.
But this fear isn’t the same as the anxiety before an exam or a big presentation.
No, this is much worse. This anxiety has a name.
It’s called reality.
What if I never get to apply my degree? What if the dreams I’ve chased for years don’t actually lead anywhere?
Lately, those dreams feel almost fake. Like ideas I built up in my head that don’t quite fit the world waiting beyond campus.
Truthfully, I’m not even sure what I want to do next.
I have aspirations, of course, but it’s almost too hard to tell what’s next, especially after the emotional attachment I’ve built here.
How am I supposed to walk away from a place that has shaped me so completely? It feels almost like cheating, leaving behind something that still feels like home.
But at the same time, it feels like I’m cheating myself, too.
It’s a strange kind of fear of missing out. Not quite FOMO, because deep down, I know I don’t belong here anymore.
I’ve outgrown the version of myself who first walked these halls, yet part of me still clings to them anyway.
It’s all so beautiful.
Because while I’m terrified of what’s coming, I also can’t help but look back.
At the people I’ve met, the moments made me who I am, even the times I thought I couldn’t do it, and somehow did.
Now, as the finish line finally comes into view, I find myself slowing down. Not because I’m tired, but because I want to take it all in.
For so long, I’ve been sprinting toward “what’s next?”
Now, I just want to look around. To really see what I’ve built here. The friends who became family, the growth I never noticed happening, the memories tucked into every hallway and classroom.
Maybe that’s what senioritis really is: not a lack of motivation, but a quiet pause before goodbye.
So if I seem distracted or sentimental, it’s because I am. I’ve done everything and nothing at all, all at once. And somehow, that feels just right.
