It’s 1 a.m. right now, and I’m just starting on this article. I haven’t started my homework for the day yet. It hasn’t even been a month since second semester started, and I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling…slumped. My eyes are bloodshot, my brain is mush, and I’m desperately trying to recall the quadratic formula. Because, you know, being able to recite it from memory will surely determine my future success as a human being.

Semester I was filled with the absurdity that is the college application process. Ah, yes, the glorious journey of transforming oneself from a carefree individual into a bundle of anxiety, all in the pursuit of a single piece of paper known as a diploma.

High school has turned us all into master jugglers. We balance clubs, sports, volunteer work, and the occasional hobby like we’re auditioning for the circus. Because apparently, colleges don’t just want academically inclined students; they want well-rounded individuals who can perform interpretive dance while solving differential equations at the same time.

However, the first half of the school year is over. Gone are the days of ambitious academic pursuits and lofty dreams of changing the world and winning a Nobel Prize. Now, I’m just counting down the minutes until the next vacation. 

I’m also waiting for those acceptance letters to roll in because nothing screams “welcome to adulthood” like basing your self-worth on the whims of countless admissions committees. 

But fear not, for there is a light at the end of this tunnel. Eventually, the acceptance letters will (hopefully) arrive, and we’ll all move on to the next chapter of our lives, armed with nothing but a diploma and a mountain of student debt. But what’s life without a little existential dread?

Dear reader, just remember: we’re all in this together, whether we like it or not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an essay to procrastinate on.