This is an awkward time of the year for us seniors. We are standing in the middle ground between graduating and being regular students. The 99 Days tradition at The Tombs serves as a consistent reminder of how many days are left before graduation (59 as of today). We know it’s all about to end, but many have not yet internalized this reality, leaving us to stew in our thoughts and emotions while we try not to talk about it.

There is something dangerous, I think, about preparing for graduation and subsequently, the end of college. When we spend a lot of time thinking about the end, it becomes romanticized. Indeed, we all have pictured the ceremony with everyone in robes, people dressed up for Senior Ball, people saying goodbye to each other while promising that they will remain close.

These images, in its anticipation, damages our understanding of both the event and those other moments. It tricks us into imagining a scarcity of time and the end of life as we know it — and letting a single second slip by would be criminal. It forces many of us to engineer memories out of the fear that we will never make any in the future.

But memories don’t work like that. Thinking we can perfect the next 59 days creates unrealistic expectations. If we try to orchestrate our remaining time, like orchestrating our futures, we run the risk of ignoring the most natural and fluid components of life. Trying to do this places too much pressure on ourselves, leaving us to focus on missed opportunities instead of the good things that happen. We risk spending our time planning rather than living.

We should realize that there is so much ahead of us, regardless of how we may feel on the day-to-day level — acutely aware of our flaws and insecurities, worrying that we are wasting time.

It is also important at this point to reflect with a gentle eye on the past. Everyone changes throughout his or her four years on the Hilltop. In some ways, we grow up. In some ways, we lose sight of who we are. There is a strong temptation to think of our past struggles as wastes of time.

We will never have made all the right decisions. Some people end up believing they chose the wrong major, and some of us even believe we chose the wrong school at Georgetown. There will never be a person who marches across the stage after four years here who can say all those choices were the right moves.

Instead, we must acknowledge the progress we have made, regardless of the relative starting points or how much time it has taken. The beautiful thing about Georgetown is that it helps us grow, even in the subtlest ways. We have been given chances to prove our bravery, our compassion and our commitment. We either rise to the occasion or we fail.

Ultimately, the whole notion of regret in this case is somewhat silly. To spend our lives looking back on how opportunities were missed is not only unproductive, it’s also debilitating and depressing. We have no choice but to move forward. Reflection has its place only in the sense that it guides future action; when we look back, we should be kind to our younger selves.

We will face unimaginable urges to look back on our last four years, fondly and less so, and to romanticize the next several weeks. While the past is important, we might be better off letting go of our plans and trying to experience these last few weeks in more genuine and personal ways. Yes, we have two months. Yes, we will graduate. Yes, things will change. The thing is, there is so much out there that we do not even know what is waiting for us. The specific jobs, friends, spouses and adventures are all unknowable to our 22-year-old minds. But that should be exciting, not scary. We may be expected to make plans, but we should recognize their limits, especially when they detract from being present.

We have 59 days left. There is still plenty of time for those panic attacks and 4 a.m. heart-to-hearts, and I guarantee we will all have our rides on the collective emotional rollercoaster. Why, then, should we let the process begin sooner than it needs to? Graduation takes one of the remaining days of our college lives from us. We should not let it steal the other 58.

Kent Carlson is a senior in the School of Foreign Service. COLLEGE ON A HILL appears every other Friday.