I was 18 when I first left home. I was finally going to the big city, to one of the best institutions in the country. I wanted to be here since forever. I was stoked, NOT.
I never thought that I would get in, I thought I could be my chirpy wonderful self and crib forever about how I missed out on an opportunity but I guess someone out there sabotaged my plans. The last week at home I fell sick, to say the least. I had a throat infection, fever, cold the works. I thought now no one can send me away to college, but the day I thought that, the next day I got better (maybe I should just stop making plans, yes that sounds jest great). I was shipped off to the new city before I could even say “New city”. Honestly, I was scared. I was scared shit less.In my town I was brilliant. I was a great student and my extra-curriculars were top notch. I had the best kind of friends a human could ask for and most importantly, I belonged. Not belonging somewhere, that scared me more than anything.
I came here, to the worst possible hostel life. Well, that is an exaggeration, but it was pretty bad. You had to cook your own food, wash your own clothes, deal with a suicidal roommate and one crazy psychotic one all while having to study and compete with the intellectual capacity that the students of this coveted institution. I felt like I was drowning and nothing I grasped on to would save me. I tried to dabble in a lot of different things but nothing helped, now, don’t get me wrong. A lot of new students/ outstation students did brilliantly well, they shone brighter than most, but I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t seizing the day and even I thought I could, I didn’t I instead drowned myself in glasses of ‘Oreo Milkshake’.
It was the toughest year in my academic life. I missed my people back home and school. I was whiling away my time doing absolutely nothing and looked forward only to going home and cried every time I had to come back. It’s been almost a year now since I shifted to the big city. I am in my second year now and I just got back from a two month long vacation and I cried, as usual. The thing here is though, being away isn’t that bad. I know what I’ve described seems like that but it isn’t. I have grown as an individual being away. I have learnt to do things the comfort of the four walls of my room would’ve never taught me. I have learned to adjust to the worst of situations. I have realized that sometimes the distance makes you stronger and that the people who love you will always come to you no matter what.
Staying away from home is tough, it’s tougher than anything I have ever had to do because it meant building an all new identity. Everyday, for me, is a fight. A fight against myself and everything around me which wills me to change and sometimes doesn’t let me. A lot of the time, I am sad. The genuine upset sad that no college student who has everything should be. There are others where I know I will survive this. I will.