It’s April.

You know what that means, don’t you?  The school year is drawing to a close.  The first school year.  I am as yet faced with the prospect of Northwestern, a prospect which has been looming in my reluctance to enjoy or appreciate U of I for a good majority of this year.  Yet the closer it grows, the less certain I become that NU is perfect for me – or, at least, more so than UIUC.

For one, the school itself really is nice.  The more I let myself, the more I notice what an ideal college atmosphere Urbana-Champaign has. It’s funny, I think, how much control your mind has over you; how little you notice this control.  I wonder now if UIUC was unappealing because I refused to accept anything less than NU, or if it really…was.  What I do know, however, is that there’s a certain spirit, a certain devotion, a certain love for the school which makes the campus comes alive.

And then there are the people.  There are the people here, the people that have contributed to the memory of that first unforgettable year in college; a memory which would be irrevocably altered without their presence.  They are people I am eternally grateful for, and people who indeed make me grateful for U of I.  There are as well the people that are coming, some that I’ve been friends with for ages now, and some that owe me food credits I will never be reimbursed with if I leave .

I’ve realized, however, there will always be forks in the road of life, no matter where you are.  And with each fork you take, there will always be the lingering thought in your mind that maybe you took the wrong road.  That maybe your choice is wholly a blemish on your record of good judgement.  That maybe twenty years from now, you will look back on where you were, and regret that decision.

Or that maybe, just maybe, you’ve made the best choice of your entire life.