If you thought the intermingling of Covid, the flu, mono, freshman dorm chlamydia, and all the other miscellaneous diseases circulating through the campus atmosphere was bad, wait until you hear about the leading cause of death amongst seniors this semester: nostalgia.
This plague has been striking down members of the Class of 2024 when they’re least expecting it: random strolls through the heinously renovated Jos; using the Keeney toilets while circling the Faculty Club at 8am; attending a sophomore friend’s party in Marcy. You may think you’re safe in these once familiar spaces; perhaps the ghost of your younger, more-naive underclassman self keeps you company. Yet, these seemingly-innocuous activities put you at an exceptionally high risk for what experts refer to as Chronic Nostalgia Disease (CND).
Symptoms of CND include (but are not limited to): reminiscing about the summer semester, trying to tie up loose ends with first-year flings, psychological malfunctioning when questioned about post-graduation plans, regret over classes taken (or even entire concentrations studied), messaging everyone you know on Hinge with actual verbal prompts, crying uncontrollably on walks around campus, long sighs, strolling down memory lane with roommates past and present, and fixating on relics (Dear Bruno, GET food ordering, paid laundry, the Class of 2024 GroupMe and its all-encompassing beef) or events of the past (Feel Good Fridays, full weekend Spring Weekend, Ego Thursdays, BrownUMemes Presidency and the subsequent recall election…).
While this sentimentality may seem harmless, it can flood your heart with toxins. High concentrations of nostalgia, regret, and wistfulness can and will ultimately lead to death. One senior, Lacy Long-Ing, was fatally misinformed and suffered the consequences.
“It all started when we came back from winter break,” Lacy’s roommate, Joe Overit, told us. “Every time she looked at us [her roommates], she would begin to bawl. When we had that snow day and classes were moved online, she literally was sobbing thinking about her Zoom classes first semester.” He added tearfully, “I don’t know how anybody could possibly look back at our locked-down-ass freshman spring fondly, but Lacy always did have a big heart.”
“Sometimes I would take Lacy to Andrews to get her a yakisoba noodle bowl– they were her favorite; she was so sad about being off meal plan,” Elly Eagerth, Lacy’s token sophomore friend, told The Rib. “But every time, she wouldn’t stop talking about some app she had to use first semester? It sounded kind of weird but Lacy said it was actually really good.” Eagerth sighed, adding “She could never live in the moment. Everywhere we went Lacy had to mention how ‘feral’ summer semester was or how they painted circles on the Main Green for social distancing… it was annoying but also sad.” The sophomore concluded her statement with a chuckle: “I love Lacy but I definitely won’t act like that when I’m a senior!”
Doctors reported Lacy’s study abroad experience only compounded her risk factors. Not only was she nostalgic for her younger self, but she was also pining for the life she led in Paris last semester. On top of this, the shadow Covid-19 cast over 2020 has left most members of the class of 2024 nostalgic for both senior year of high school and of college. “Imagine being torn between three separate temporalities, all the while being asked to consider your future,” Alan Oppman, practitioner at Brown’s star-studded, reputable CAPS. “This triple burden of wistfulness is certainly enough to kill an already distressed senior on the brink of real adulthood”. Oppman expressed his condolences to Lacy’s family, adding, “We really need better health services at this school…”
The world (your undergraduate experience) may be coming to an end all too soon, but that doesn’t mean you should hyperfixate on the past. We at The Rib implore our readers to stay present, and live every moment of the next…86 days…to the fullest! Failure to do so can and will kill you!