Word Vomit: A Day of Lasts

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Sometimes I need to word vomit in order to not actually vomit. Disclosure: this post is word vomit. Know that because of this, I held down my lunch and dinner yesterday.

All day Wednesday I was up and down with my emotions. One minute I was on top of the world cheering and fist pumping, the next my stomach was in complete knots and I was having a hard time hearing anything but “what are you going to do with your life” ringing in my head. Why do you have a crazy lady talking to you in your head you ask? Simple.

Because yesterday was officially my last day of college. Ever.

On Wednesday I took my last test, gave my last presentation and made the drive home from class for the very last time (while listening to John Mayer to soothe my soul). All day I kept telling myself “this is the last time you’ll ever do this” every time I left a lecture.

I never realized that 3 and a half years can go by so quickly.  I feel like I was just taking my first creative writing class or running to get Doy’s at 2am or sleeping through my first class (on accident I swear mom). I’ve had so many firsts in the past few years and I used yesterday to think about all of my lasts.

I’m not one to usually have a stomach full of knots or get super nostalgic about things but yesterday hit me on my blind side. I finally realized that for the first time, I’m ending one chapter of my life and not quite knowing what the next one is supposed to be titled.

Sure you graduate middle school, then go to high school. Then graduate high school and go on to college. But once you graduate college, there isn’t one road you’re supposed to walk down anymore. Nothing is clean cut. Because now you’re an adult and adults never really have anything figured out as well as they think they do.

Reading that back I now realize that the “they” is now “me.”

So I got home last night and did the only logical thing someone in my position should do. Got a glass of sangria, sat on the couch and watched re-runs of The Office. Then got another glass of sangria, laid on the floor and turned on my record player for a few hours while I let Stevie Nicks serenade me until my stomach slowly unraveled the knots that took up residence all day.

If anyone has any suggestions on what I should do with my life, I’m all ears. And I already have “being a bum under the Santa Monica pier” as my plan C so get a little more creative than that please.

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