Someday someone will call right now “the good old days.” Maybe even you.

A stretch of life only becomes golden once it is over and the hard parts have faded out. The year you are in has its own grind, and in twenty years you will remember the drives and the jokes rather than the exams. Memory works that way: it keeps the texture and drops the pressure.

Since this stretch will be remembered fondly whether you cooperate or not, you may as well collect some of it now. Take the bad photo. Keep the group chat alive. Go on the pointless drive when somebody suggests it.