I Hate College, I Hate This University… I Hate Everything

I hate college. I hate this university. I hate waking up every morning already tired, already drained, knowing I have to face another day filled with pressure, deadlines, and expectations I never even agreed to. I hate pretending I’m okay when I’m barely holding it together. I hate walking into class with a fake smile while my mind screams for rest.

I hate how the system pushes us to “thrive” while most of us are just trying to survive. I hate how success feels like a race where everyone else has a head start. I hate how no one talks about how lonely this journey can be. I hate that this place makes me question my worth — not because I’m not trying, but because sometimes trying just isn’t enough.

And you know what? I hate being a college student. I really do.

But… if I’m being honest with myself — brutally honest — maybe I don’t really hate it.

Because if I hated it so much, why does the thought of leaving it behind make my chest feel tight? Why does the thought of walking away from these halls, these people, these memories… make me ache?

Maybe what I hate isn’t college itself. Maybe what I hate is the way it hurts to grow.

Because that’s what this place did to me — it made me grow. It forced me out of my shell, ripped me out of my comfort zone, and shoved me into the real world, ready or not.

And guess what? I changed. This university turned the quiet, awkward version of me into someone who can speak up, connect, and carry conversations. I used to avoid eye contact — now I meet people with confidence. I used to dread group work — now I look forward to building things with others.

I learned how to adapt. I learned how to lead. I learned how to listen.

I met people who taught me how to live — not just study, not just pass. People who showed me that it’s okay to laugh even when things are heavy. People who made this unbearable journey bearable. My friends. My circle. My people.

And that… That’s what I really hate.

I hate that I had to meet people I now can’t imagine my life without… only to know that eventually, we’ll all go our separate ways. I hate that we built something so real, so comforting, and yet we’re all slowly being pulled apart by life.

Some of us are leaving because of tuition fees we can’t afford. Some are transferring to other universities for scholarships. Some are dropping out to work and support their families. Some are just quietly fading away, overwhelmed by the weight of everything.

And here I am — stuck between gratitude and grief.

Grateful for the time we had. Grieving that it couldn’t last longer.

It’s not just the separation that hurts. It’s the knowing. Knowing that this was temporary all along. Knowing that we were never promised a full story together — just a chapter. And that chapter… is ending.

And I hate that. I hate it so much.

Because we were finally comfortable. We finally knew each other. We had inside jokes, shared struggles, dumb group chat names, chaotic projects, unforgettable hangouts. We had dreams we used to talk about like they were just within reach.

Now… we barely know if we’ll ever see each other again. And that’s the part that breaks me.

But if you're one of those friends — if you’re reading this — please know this:

Your dreams became my dreams too.

When you told me what you wanted to become, what you were passionate about, what you were working so hard for — I believed in it with you. I celebrated your wins like they were my own. I prayed for your success like it was my own future on the line.

So wherever life takes you — even if it’s far from here, even if it’s far from me — I hope you make it. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope every tear, every sacrifice, every sleepless night was worth it.

And I hope, somehow, someday, our paths will cross again. Maybe in a different city, maybe in a coffee shop, or maybe online. Maybe we’ll be older, more tired, more healed. But when we meet again — because I believe we will — I hope we’ll both be living the lives we used to dream about under fluorescent lights and noisy hallways.

Even if we’re walking different roads now, I carry our memories with me. I carry our laughter, our struggles, our panic over deadlines, and our celebrations over little wins. Those memories are carved into who I am now. And they’ll never be forgotten.

So yes — I hate college. I hate what it’s doing to us. I hate how it forces us to say goodbye before we’re ready. But I also love it for what it gave me: Real friendship. Real growth. Real life.

And for that… Maybe I don’t hate it after all.