A UConn Senior’s Farewell Letter to Laurel Hall
Dear Laurel Hall,
It’s fitting that you are named after Connecticut’s state flower, as you helped me bloom here on campus. I love you Laurel, you dirty whore.
Each year you accept thousands of students into your halls to take COMM 1000 and other big classes. If only I were big enough for you. Little did I know at the time, it wasn’t Stefano that welcomed me here as a freshman, it was you. I took you for granted and didn’t know how much you meant to me until it was too late. For that, I am sorry.
After years of penetrating your doors every week it became more than just casual class. My feelings for you grew and before I knew it, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sure there were some rough patches but hey, that’s what makes us us. A few failed geoscience exams here and there weren’t enough to break our bonds, they only made them stronger.
Junior year was when I knew you were the lecture hall for me. It was deep inside your hall, up on the third floor grinding out work when you were there for me when I needed you most. Finals week was getting to me, the library was full, the other classrooms were booked, but you had your doors wide open. I thought I needed an empty classroom to do my work, but an all-nighter with you was more than any underclassman can ask for.
Sure Oak Hall has the looks, MSB has the brains, and other halls like Austin are interesting… but none of them have that special quality that you possess. Don’t even think for a second that you’re like that low class Arjona or that nerd Homer. Laurel Hall you’re special and you’re worthy of being loved…
It’s just that I’m not sure if we’re exactly right for each other anymore.
After much thought I don’t think that I’m the Husky for you. Graduation is coming up faster than we thought and I think it would be for the best if we took a break for a while. It’s just too complicated. I’ll be moving on to grad school where there will be all new halls that are just too tempting. You know me, I can’t resist a good academic building when it get lonely at night, and I have to bust out a quick study session. Plus you’ll be hosting thousands of new students each year, it just won’t work between us.
I want to stress that it’s not you, it’s me. I have to move on whether we like it or not. Life here at Storrs is limited to 4 years, and no matter how hard we try, I can’t make it any longer. But hey, maybe we’ll be seeing each other again sometime.
Maybe, just maybe if I don’t completely fuck my life up, I can get a job, and perhaps even come back as a professor! Then I’ll be much older, wiser, and I’ll have so many more stories for you. Then I’d be running your classrooms and not just listening to the lectures. It’s nice to dream like this Laurel, but sadly next week marks our goodbye. After that last final with you I’ll be on my way. Thank you Laurel. Please, don’t call.
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