Hello, incoming undergraduate student.

It’s me, old, bitter, and world-weary third year student. Maybe you have seen me previously on school trips to university open days; you will recognise me from the lack of light in my eyes, the haggard hunch of my physique and the constant shaking of my hands as a result of a caffeine overdose.

Take a good look, young padawan, because what you are looking at is your future. The lifeless expression, the pale and clammy face, the tired, sluggish movements – you are staring into the face of what you will one day become.

Excited yet?

But never fear, my dear, innocent grasshopper. I come bearing gifts in the form of wisdom and warnings. Because, you, my sweet summer child, still have time. You have time to prevent this fate and make the choices I should have made. I am going to bequeath to you knowledge that I never had, knowledge that could change destiny and shape your very being. So I present to you today, grasshopper, a guide on how to survive your very first year of third level education without shame or bitterness or trauma. Yes, I know, a difficult task. But I have every faith in you.

1. Be rude to your mum when she drops you off at your accommodation.

You will be excited to unpack, to claim this new space. You will feel completely possessive of this place which is somehow, miraculously, yours. You have never had a space that you could truly claim as your own, not really. You will want to spread your socks everywhere, mark up the walls with posters, stick poems and photographs on the door. It’s a wonder that you don’t piss on the carpet to truly complete this marking of territory.

Her being there will make you tense. She will start tidying the already tidy kitchen, fussing with the tea towels, trying to unpack your things for you. You will get irritated because for once you have something that is completely yours, not hers, and she is trying to take that away. Be sharp with her in the most passive aggressive way. Encourage her to leave sooner than she needs to. Rush her out the door. Do not hug her when she leaves.

You will find out from your aunt that she got emotional on the drive home. Most of your siblings have moved by now; think of her at home, by herself, in a very quiet room. Think of her as more alone than she really is. Continue to think about this for the next semester. Feel guilty. Do not come home more than once every two months because of this. When you are at home, you will face her and feel guilty and want to leave. When you are away, you will feel happy. You will feel guilty for being happy when you do not know if she is. In the first semester, you will learn this feeling very well. Guilt when you go back, guilt when you leave. Let this feeling live in your lungs, black and thick. Let it grow. Feel the heaviness of it, all of the time.

2. Reconnect with old friends from secondary.

Meet up with the ones you didn’t really talk to all that much, but that seemed nice. You do not know anyone in this new city; grab at old connections like life buoys because the crowds of strangers make you feel like you are drowning. Go for pints with them. Talk about leaving certificate results, which no longer matter. Talk about teachers you had, who you are already beginning to forget. Talk about the degree they are studying.

Pretend to understand what biochemistry is. Get tipsy and affectionate. Think about how genuinely nice they are. Wonder why you didn’t talk to them as much back in school, why you weren’t closer before. Trade Snapchats and add each other on Whatsapp. Promise to make an effort to meet up with each other more, because you really did have a lovely time with them.

In three weeks’ time, you are going to make friends with the people in your course. You will stop hanging out with the person you promised to meet. You will see them on campus, and wave or smile. Sometimes you will not do this because you feel awkward. Wonder why you never kept in touch with them. Regret not having kept in touch with them. Make no moves to undo this, however.

3. Join almost every society, when you are feeling brave.

A week later, you will not feel so brave, and will never go back to any of the societies. Your roommate will travel the country with the trampolining society. Feel envious, but make no moves to join it yourself, because you are bitter, but not proactive.

4. Go grocery shopping for the first time.

Put on your best clothes beforehand, and wear a full face of make-up, because you are an adult now and have your life together and intend to be an adult in a glamorous manner.

Be shocked and hurt by the surprisingly high price of cheese. Be overwhelmed by the many kinds of washing detergent. Have a panic in the poultry section. Put a single bottle of wine that costs €3.99 in to your basket, because having a bottle of wine in your grocery basket makes you feel sophisticated and worldly. When you get to the till, you will forget your pin number, because this is your first ever bank card and you have only had it a week. Put the pin in wrong three times and have your card blocked by the bank. You will only have a euro coin on you; ask the shopkeeper if you could just buy the garlic bread, if that’s alright?

Do the walk of shame home, clutching your garlic bread to your chest like a shield. Burn it in the oven. Cry in your kitchen and ask your roommate for a loan of a tenner. Buy a ready-made sandwich from Centra, and a jar of Nutella. Eat the Nutella with your pinky in your bed. Give up and go to sleep.

5.Have your first shower in the new accommodation.

You were lucky enough to get the ensuite, and you intend to make full use of it. You have never owned a shower before; at home, all you have is the bath, because your house is too old to have a shower, and it costs too much to get new plumbing installed.

Strip naked. Look at yourself in the mirror and preen. Get your biggest towel and your softest night gown and leave them by the bathroom door. Put the shower to its highest temperature and step in. Scald your skin and relish in the wonderful burn that leaves you red and hot and tender. Revel in the luxury of the hard pressure and steam. Sing James Blunt at the top of your lungs because you know your roommates are out at the moment. Deep condition your hair.

When you get out, pour yourself a glass of that €3.99 wine that you did eventually buy. Play Billie Holiday and put on a facemask. Moisturise. Lie on your bed, eyes closed, blissed out enough to almost moan.

In ten minutes, you will realise you left the tap of the sink on in the bathroom, and the plug in the sink. You will jerk up, but it will be too late. The bathroom will completely flood, and it will pour out into the carpet of your bedroom. Scoop up the water bit by bit using a bowl which you pour into the toilet. The carpet will not dry for a week. Mould will grow, and your bedroom will smell like earth and dampness for the rest of the year.

Your showers will never be as enjoyable as the first one, after that.

6. Kiss at least one person in your course.

Extra points if you’re in a mandatory group project with that person. Kiss them while polluted. They will smell good and feel nice. Break off the kiss halfway through to tell him to kiss your friend instead, because you just remembered that she fancies him. This will be a dick move on your part.

Be jealous when he does kiss her. Make things weird. Moon over him for a year. Make things awkward and uncomfortable. Leave at least one voicemail on his phone while drunk.

Eventually, feel embarrassed. Stop talking to him and delete the messages. Run away to the Netherlands, if possible.

7. Have sex with someone you bring home from a club.

He won’t be able to finish. He will apologise, which will somehow make it worse. Feel ugly. Pinch the meat of your belly when he leaves and be disgusted by yourself. Wonder if it was your tummy or if your vagina is broken. Think about going to the doctors about it for weeks afterwards. The next time you bring a guy home, the opposite will happen, and much too fast. You will not finish either time, but for some reason you won’t think this is important. Realise that your vagina probably isn’t broken and cancel the doctor’s appointment.

8. Almost fail your Christmas exams.

Feel stupid. Feel so, so stupid. This degree was meant to be the one thing you were good at, and you can’t even do that. Go out less. Go to lectures more. Take notes. The next essay you hand up gets a first class honours grade. Get cocky. Stop trying so hard. Almost fail the next essay again. Repeat this cycle for the next two years.

9. Make friends with the people in your course.

Do this very quickly, on a class night out. Do shots together. Tell them things that are far too personal. Pee together in an alley and get kicked out of the club. Spill a kebab on yourself in front of them on the way home. Hold back their hair when they vomit. Go to an after session with them. Fight with them at the after session. Make everyone in the room uncomfortable.

The person you fight with is going to become one of your best friends. You are going to share hairbrushes and ice cream cones and boys and Netlfix accounts with them. You are going to move to the Netherlands with them. You are one day going to wonder how you ever survived without them. Be extra mean to them in that first fight. Think about it every now and again later and wonder how you could have ever been so horrible to a person so nice. Hate yourself, a little. Love them, a lot.

10. Don’t listen to guides.

Instruction guides are for furniture, not for people. Make mistakes. Make so, so many mistakes. Kiss the wrong people and fail tests and flood your apartment and give yourself food poisoning. Do all the wrong things and learn what the right things are as a result.

Do not keep your dignity, do not keep your grace. Barely survive. Grow. And love every single undignified, ungraceful minute of it.
• Rose Keating is 3rd Level Winner of Write Here, Write Now 2018, a Hot Press initiative, in association with Creative Ireland and supported by PayPal and Canon. She attends UCC.