Graduating into nothing
What happens when “work hard now, relax later” stops making sense?

I graduate next year and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.

I was told the same thing my entire life: work hard now, and it will pay off later. So I did. I worked; I got the grades; I stacked on extracurriculars like they were currency; and before I could even work, I volunteered so much that I graduated high school with an award for it.

And now I’m sitting here thinking what the hell was the point? Because the version of a “future” that we were promised no longer seems to exist.

Students today are applying to hundreds—sometimes thousands—of jobs and simply  get ignored. And if they do get something, it’s underpaid, unstable, or labelled as an “experience” instead of an actual job. People are commuting hours for jobs that barely cover gas. We’ve normalised struggling just to enter the workforce. It feels like the bar keeps moving further away the closer we get to it.

And the worst part is, no one really warns you about that. You’re told to prepare, to build our resumes, to “stand out,” but no one tells you that even doing everything “right” might not be enough. We can follow every instruction and still end up stuck, refreshing job boards, wondering what we’ve missed. 

So, what exactly is it that we have been working towards? I’m about to graduate, and then what?

There’s this assumption that graduation is supposed to feel like a finish line. Relief. Pride. Excitement. And I see that. I work at Convocation Hall at St. George, and every season, I watch students walk across that stage glowing. They look ready. They look certain. Families cheer, cameras flash, and for a moment, everything looks like it makes sense, like everything was worth it.

But, I don’t feel that. I feel like I’m slowly being pushed out of something I’m not ready to leave.

Because the truth is, university has been the best time of my life. Not in a cliché way, but in small, weirdly specific ways. Like, late-night study sessions that turn into conversations about everything and nothing. Last-minute plans that become the most fun nights. Sleeping over at friends’ houses across campuses. Nights out with friends, crappy food runs, even the nasty coffee from the Theos machines.

Even the routines mean something. Walking the same paths between classes. Recognising faces you don’t know but see every day. Complaining about assignments with people who get it. There is a shared understanding that you don’t appreciate until you’re about to lose it.

I even love the stress, perhaps not in the moment, but the idea that I am working towards something. There is always a next step. The next deadline. The next goal. Even when it feels overwhelming, it still feels structured. It feels like it’s leading somewhere. There is always something to measure yourself against, something to complete, something to finish.

And then there’s this constant comparison that never really turns off.

You open LinkedIn for five minutes and suddenly, everyone your age seems to have it figured out. Promotions. “Excited to share…” posts that somehow make you feel behind even if you’ve been doing everything right on paper. It turns into this quiet competition where you’re measuring your entire life against these curated updates.

And you know it’s not the full picture. You know, people only post the wins. But, it still gets to you. It makes you feel like you’re already falling behind before you have gotten the chance to start.

And now, after all of that, I’m supposed to step into a world where nothing is guaranteed?

No stable job. No clear path. A housing market that makes no sense—the idea of owning a home feels like a sick joke. Even moving out feels unrealistic. The future doesn’t look like something to work towards. It looks like something to survive. And that’s terrifying.

It’s not just uncertainty. It’s the kind of certainty that feels constant. Like, there’s no point where things naturally fall into place. No moment where you finally feel “settled.” Just a series of decisions you hope don’t mess everything up.

I’m not ready for life to become serious in the way everyone says it does after graduating. I don’t want everything to suddenly be about stability, income, and long-term planning. I still want to mess around. I still want to do things that don’t matter. I still want to feel like my life isn’t just about being productive all the time.

But, maybe that’s exactly why they do matter.

Maybe the problem isn’t that university is ending, it’s that we were taught to see it as the only time our lives would feel like this. As though joy, spontaneity, and freedom have an expiration date. As though once you graduate, everything meaningful has to be justified by productivity or success.

Maybe they don’t. Or maybe we simply  haven’t been taught how to carry them forward. Because if the goal of all this work was just to survive after graduation, then yeah, this feels pointless.

But, I don’t think that’s what I am working towards. Or, at least, I hope I am not.

I simply thought that there would be something waiting for me at the end of all this. Something that made it all make sense. A wonderful job, a clear path, something that would make all the years of effort feel like they added up to something concrete.

And now that I’m getting close to the end, and there’s nothing there for me, more questions arise. I’m still scared. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what comes next. And I don’t think anyone really does, no matter how much it looks like they do.

So, I guess this is it. You graduate, and then you just…figure it out.