This is an opinon piece in Lundagård. The opinions expressed are the writers own.
Lund’s student life is aptly lauded. It shouldn’t come as a surprise: 40 000 students living within 26 square kilometers are bound to create a vibrant social environment. Clubs and pubs run throughout the week, and the well-connected have house-party options in the same manner. Student life is what makes the intense schedules that we maintain to achieve good grades, summer internships, and extracurriculars tolerable. It is an enchanting world to walk into, and life here can often feel idyllic. But I am afraid of enjoying life in Lund so much that I do not want to live any other way.
That is why I must leave on exchange.
I fear becoming that person who’s tried too many programs, lived in too many dorms, and gone to too many clubs. I fear being that person now, and about still being that person in five years. I think about becoming like that consultant I spoke to in Malmö, who had enrolled in random distance courses after their degree so they could keep living in their corridor room in Parran. Or the students who have a medal rack on their tailcoat that rival generals.
When I considered taking up elective courses in Lund, I received urgent messages from friends and family who had finished their studies. They warned me about staying in a life I really loved out of fear of missing out. I heeded their warnings, ended commitments and work assignments, and set my sights abroad. I knew that if I didn’t see a different place and live some other life, I might become that which I fear most: stuck.
Lund is not, and should not be, as good as life gets.
I want to live as many different lives as I can and see as many different places as possible. I’ve been lucky to have moved between cities and countries frequently in my life. I’ve never felt safe when I moved out, and I’ve never felt calm when I moved in. But I have always been happy to hear that I was moving. That is what I am most excited about as I go into my exchange: getting a little vignette of another life. Perhaps it will be funner, or maybe it will be less interesting, but either way it will be a useful window into a good, new life elsewhere.
Maybe there is something truly special about Lund. Something that I fear getting addicted to, or of not finding anywhere else. But to allow that fear to win, and to remain in Lund out of comfort and familiarity would be cowardly. My conscience tells me that standing still means moving backward when everyone else is moving forward. A term abroad, with other clubs, other people, and other traditions, is the perfect period of abstinence to reassure me that I am not addicted.
