After the break, I often find myself stuck in class daydreaming about what I’ll be doing once I get out of here. I notice, and then I snap out of it, but it’s a good question. What is to be done? That is the question facing our generation. Do I leave home, in the midst of a pandemic, thousands of miles away, or should I give in, and vegetate, and let myself regress and refuse to cut the cord. The answer is clear.

Leaving the nest is a massive decision that I’ve made, and it’s clear why I long for it. I’ve spent four years here, and now that my college applications are sent, I struggle to pick up the pencil or open the laptop and trudge on for another day. 

I feel that the weather makes it worse. The last thing I want to do every morning is get out of bed into my freezing room, put on some cold clothes, and schlep out into my frigid car through the arctic wind. I don’t think I’m alone here, either. Most people that I’ve talked to are more than ready to leave, and some even welcome another disaster so they can drool on their laptops at home with online lessons than bother to show up.

Maybe I should change my tune and savor these last days. After all, I won’t get the opportunity to live essentially responsibility-free for much longer. I think that once it’s all over, we might even miss it.