Almost done… but not quite ready to leave.
You spend years working towards your final semester –
and then, when it finally arrives, you realise you’re not entirely ready for it.
On paper, this is everything you’ve been waiting for.
The last few assignments.
The finish line.
All the hard work finally coming together.
But somewhere in the middle of it all, something shifts.
It hit me in a way I didn’t expect.
A friend I recently made was talking about the Residential Ball – how much fun it was going to be, how we should go together, how it’s one of those events you don’t want to miss.
And all I could think was…
I won’t be here.
I graduate in May.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just one event. It was everything that came with it.
All the little moments that made uni what it is: the spontaneous plans, the campus events, the routines you don’t even realise you’ve built.
That’s when it sinks in.
You’re not just finishing university.
You’re leaving a version of your life behind.
People always say the friends you make in your first semester aren’t the ones you leave with.
I used to think that was a bit dramatic.
Turns out, it’s not.
At the start, you become friends with whoever is around. You’re just trying to find your people, your space, your sense of belonging. And sometimes, those friendships fade -not because anyone did anything wrong, but because they were never meant to last.
And then there are the ones that do.
I had a friend who lived on my floor.
We were inseparable – each other’s support system, seeing each other every day.
When she graduated, we said what everyone says:
“We won’t let distance affect our friendship.”
But life has a way of changing things.
Different schedules. A full-time job. Living far away. Routines that don’t align anymore.
And just like that, someone you once saw every day becomes someone you see once in three months – if you’re lucky.
That’s the paradox.
You’re moving forward… but parts of your life are quietly staying behind.
And then comes the part no one really prepares you for.
The real world.
For the first time, there’s no next semester to fall back on.
It’s not about assignments anymore. It’s about rent, jobs, responsibilities: building a life from scratch.
And for me, that thought is a little scary.
I’ve left my home, my family, my friends — everything familiar — to move thousands of miles for a degree I truly believed in.
So the question lingers:
What if it doesn’t work out?
What if I don’t get the job I’ve been working towards?
What if everything doesn’t go the way I planned?
Does all of this… go to waste?
But at the same time, there’s another side to it.
The part that makes it all worth it.
Starting fresh.
Moving out of student accommodation.
Having a place of my own.
Working full-time.
Calling my mum and my brother over to visit and driving them around in my own car.
Building something that’s mine.
And hopefully, one day, working in my dream role, in the organisation I’ve always imagined myself in.
So here I am.
Excited.
Nervous.
Grateful.
A little scared.
All at the same time.
Maybe that’s what the last semester really is.
Not an ending.
Not a beginning.
But a strange in-between- where everything you’ve built, meets everything you’re about to become.
And maybe the paradox isn’t something you need to solve.
Maybe it’s just something you need to feel.
