“Ahh… college… It seems like just yesterday I was binge drinking on beaches and trying to make it out of Spring Break alive,” I say to myself as I scroll through Instagram and see all my little sorority babies drunk on beaches, while I am getting ready to go to work at 5 in the morning.
Slowly but surely, becoming a functioning adult has ruined my life. Ruined my love life. Ruined my social life. Ruined my heart, soul, and spirit. Once upon a time, I dreamed about the day I would graduate from college, get an apartment of my own, live downtown in a big city, date so many guys at once that I wouldn’t be able to keep their names straight, live up the social scene. When you’re an adult you are supposed to have a sense of independence, and security. When you’re an adult you’re not supposed to have effing acne anymore. Little did I know that none of those things exist in the real world without killing you first. You can’t have it all. Hell, you really can’t have any of it.
When you’re an adult, you don’t have friends anymore. Your friends are candles and Keurigs. When you’re an adult, you don’t get to go to a fraternity house, you don’t meet athletes every corner you turn around. You have to resort to Tinder freaks and Bumble geeks. You don’t normally have an abundance of guys coming up to you in non-college bars (at least, I don’t). And let’s be honest, by the time you make it to the bar, guys are last on the list of things on your mind. You need six shots of tequila first, to make you forget about how your boss ripped you a new asshole six times that week. You need two beers to forget that you can’t figure out how to unclog your toilet, and you need two well liquor drinks to forget that you are spending all of your rent money on alcohol at the bar. Who has time to find their soulmate when you are drowning your adult soul in alcohol.
They told me that life after college is hard, and sure I believed them, but they should have told me life after college kicks you on your ass, then has sex with your best friend, because that would be a more accurate representation. I have been feeling the pressure of full blown adult life for a while now, but it came to a head just in time for ~*~SPRING BREAK FOREVAAA!~*~ There is no depression like being exhausted from working 14 hours a day, only to see your little bonging a beer in the middle of sunny Florida, knowing she just one a twerking contest where guys with six packs were the judges.
I’m not jealous. I’m not bitter. They say all good things must come to an end, right? I knew the constant party had to be over someday. I do find a silver lining in knowing that reality will hit these Spring Breakers someday, and then they’ll be just as depressed as the rest of us, and they’ll still have zits too..