Dear Computer Science,

What a run! Just under two years ago, while writing my Yale application, I had to list up to three potential majors I was interested in. I chose English, Classics and Statistics & Data Science.

Our entanglement came out of nowhere. We were introduced in first-semester CS50, cliché as that may sound. I never thought it would get this serious. It was just supposed to be a one-time thing. And yet, here we are now, brought together for a third consecutive semester in CS223. 

I don’t know how we made it this far. I’m a humanities boy and you are quite definitionally a STEM gal. But I couldn’t settle for the mere tease of CS50. I loved the novelty, the difficulty and the thrill of a problem set done right. They left me yearning for more.

I thought one more class would bring me back to reality. I had heard malicious rumors about CS201, and I thought our little romance would end within the infamous walls of Dunham 220 as Professor Stephen B. Slade delivered our eulogy. 

Instead, I fell head over heels. I began to feel more comfortable around you. I even went so far as to begin describing myself as an “intended CS & Econ major” after surviving that brutal three-and-a-half hour handwritten final exam in gloomy Davies Auditorium.

Sometime around then, however, it became less about my love for you and more about the love for what you represented. For some reason, our relationship provided me with an imagined aura of intrigue and power around others. It made me feel special.

Coming into this year, I dared to take our relationship to the next level, studying discrete math in CS202 and data structures in CS223. 

And suddenly, far too abruptly, it all came crashing down. Like I said, I’m a humanities boy and you’re a STEM gal; I’m Pyramus and you’re Thisbe; I’m Romeo and you’re Juliet. Pick an analogy about ill-fated love and it applies.

You said you wanted to make things more serious, you wanted to spend more time together. First problem set, we spent maybe 15 hours together. I could do this, I thought. And then, the second problem set hit, and I began to doubt if we were really compatible. 

I spent hours and hours trying to revive the magic we shared, but it never came back. Thirty hours later with no fruits of my labor, I realized it wasn’t meant to be. After nights of crying on the floor to my “dont hmu” playlist, nights of tossing and turning in bed wondering why you were doing this to me, nights full of stress and unhappiness, I knew. Whatever this thing was, it was over.

As I began to re-evaluate our relationship, I thought back to the reasons why our sneaky links even began in the first place. I never had any software engineering ambitions. I just loved the thrill and the challenge. It was manageable then. But looking now, the thrill is gone, the challenge seemingly insurmountable. 

All that was tethering me to you was my sense of pride. I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t handle the rollercoaster of a computer science life. I didn’t want to give up the superiority complex I felt over humanities kids.

But I had to. For my mental health, for my free time, for my sanity, I’m slipping off my engagement ring and dropping CS223. No longer an “intended CS & Econ major,” I’m a free agent once more.

This torrid affair of ours was something, wasn’t it? Just a year ago, I was so timid, so young and oh so naïve. And then, for that brief patch in the middle, it was glorious. When it was good, I never thought it would end. But now, I can’t stand the thought of devoting the rest of my college career to a grind just for the sake of commitment. It’s over.

Maybe I’ll play the field and come back. Maybe I’ll realize that nobody else can make me feel the things you do. Maybe I’ll take CS223 in the spring and realize that it was just a “wrong place, wrong-time” situation. But right now, the emotions are too raw to even imagine such a possibility. Ethics, Politics & Economics has never looked so magnificent as the rays of sunshine streaming through the stained glass windows cascade over her shiny new dress.

Thanks for the memories, and thanks for taking a chance on a little boy from the humanities-side of the tracks. I’ll always remember what we had together. But it’s time to move on. It’s not you, it’s me. 

Cordially,

Andrew