No one warned me the end of first year hits hard

I get that everyone was trying to revise for exam season (seriously, not being able to find a seat in the Sydney Jones was genuinely concerning), but somehow all I could focus on was how weirdly bittersweet it felt that first year was almost over.

No more being a silly little fresher. No more rolling out of bed five minutes before lectures. And most tragically, no more saying “it’s okay first year doesn’t count” to justify doing absolutely nothing.

From strangers to trauma bonds

I couldn’t have anticipated making friendships that would rival ones I left behind at school.

Yet somehow, I went from awkwardly asking everyone the same rehearsed “What course are you doing?” to sharing wildly inappropriate levels of personal information while walking down Bold Street to rinse our student finance.

I didn’t get to choose my flatmates, but now I know I’d choose every single one of them again.

Second year counts

The worst part? I can no longer leave an exam convinced I’ve failed and comfort myself with the phrase, “It’s okay, first year doesn’t count.” 

Second year means our degrees suddenly become real. Assignments matter. Exam results matter. Everything matters.

It’s looking increasingly likely that Harold Cohen will be seeing more of me next year, probably at 3am while I’m trying to sneak in a Domino’s.

Leaving a home

Remember your nerves moving into your first year flat?

Well, somehow a whole year has passed and now you’re nervous about moving out of a place that feels like home.

You’re packing up the room everyone squeezed into for morning after debriefs about crushes you’ve spoken to exactly once. The kitchen where scabies rumours spread faster than Wi-Fi must be left behind. As must the bathroom where one flatmate sobbed about how he “fumbled a baddie” as the rest sat there eating a cold Mamos £3.50 pizza slice.

You’re leaving the place where flatmates became friends.

No more Freshers’ costumes

Remember at the start of the year when you got your first Wednesday social theme announcement?

At the time, I wasn’t thrilled about dressing up as an egg while the older years got to wear cute soldier costumes. But somewhere along the way, we all learned to embrace looking ridiculous (RIP our dignity).

There was something oddly unifying about being covered in yellow face paint in Black Rabbit and pretending it was completely normal.

I can only hope that watching next year’s freshers suffer through questionable social themes bring me as much joy than being the one forced to wear them.

Why is there no Puregym in Smithdown?

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Don’t get me wrong, living in Smithdown will have its perks. But why is there no PureGym?

The Brookhouse may be about to gain a very loyal customer, and Wednesday socials should see significantly better pres attendance. But, living five minutes from campus (and a Puregym) is definitely something I took for granted.

Honestly, who knows if the 699 will get me into campus for lectures or if I’ll make it to the bus stop at all.

You’ve changed more than you realise

Everyone warns you that university will be your first taste of independence.

What they don’t tell you is how much comes with it.

You arrive with a “say yes to everything” mindset and suddenly end up joining societies you never expected to. Pole and aerial? Why not.

First year truly is a year of firsts. You’re suddenly responsible for your education, your meals, and getting home after blacking out in Dirty O’Sheas.

Somewhere along the way, you change. Your priorities shift. 

Honestly,  that’s probably a good thing.

It went way too fast

I think I have accidentally achieved my childhood dream of living on the same street as all my friends, just a lot earlier than expected, and while still technically a teenager.

One year turned into one collectively doomed sleep schedule. A million Flute photo booth pictures. Fortnightly movie nights that somehow turned into a full blown Game of Thrones watch party.

And I can’t lie, I’m slightly devastated I didn’t maintain a perfect Raz streak.

Why am I sad?

Because for all the chaos, bad decisions and questionable life choices, first year has been unreal.

It’s strange how quickly somewhere unfamiliar becomes home. How strangers become the people you tell everything to. How a year that felt endless at times somehow disappears in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that’s why the end of first year feels so emotional. Not because it’s over, but because it mattered.

Writing this feels a little like closure. But it also feels like the start of something new.

So bring on second year.

I’m ready to terrorise my flatmates all over again, start planning a full St Paddy’s 2027 itinerary, and continue proving that no 9am Thursday lecture will ever stop me from a Wednesday social.

See you in Smithdown x