It’s been my second week at university. A hard working and inquisitive student, the two first days have been built around me giving up. I have ran away, and you will quickly understand that this is my specialty. These fresh rough moments have had me recalling my first days as a freshman high schooler. They seemed full of opportunities and new beginnings. Three months later, I was going back to my former school.
‘Why leaving such a leading school?’
Pressure. Grades dropping. Loneliness rising. Nevertheless, mostly because of the lacking shelter in an unknown territory. A place too wide. To this question, I mainly explained it was due to pressure when all I wanted was people to perceive the underlying meaning of such an ambiguous word. I couldn’t make any friends. I had given up. I was like a fish out of water. Plenty of other words could describe my feelings in precise terms. I was hiding from my parents and my sisters and my teachers and my classmates.
Returning back to this school didn’t make me benefit from a gain in relationships, although I made a few friendlier acquaintances. But they were not the problem, I was. I am. Luckily, I was more at ease in this narrow place, yet always feeling out of place. It was a field I knew, and my knowledge in each of the enigmatic rooms I was coming across provided me with an ounce of confidence.
When I entered the place for the last time, holding my graduation diploma, I found myself with nostalgia. Sitting at my desk, reading my school report, I observed the manifestation of relief and hopes and dreams turning into tangible realities. Scared, as always, I was yet changing through positive and bright affirmations.
September 14th, 2015. One week left. Tension was at its highest and brief scenarios emerged from my mind.
Bells tolled. University had started. The strain rhythm of the Parisian subway evidently left me with a bitter feeling. The overwrought gestures surfaced. I felt disappointed by the lectures and subjects I had to follow, with the everlasting delusion of not being accepted to the initial course I was willing to pursue. Soon the crowded amphitheater and classrooms seemed to make all other anxious thought vanish. As the first days went unexpectedly well, the uneasiness swiftly became inevitable and oppressive. The subway was shattering my mindfulness. It was a dreadful way to start off the day.
The deafening thoughts are spellbinding. They are thunderous and unescapable. Was loneliness ever the cause? It makes me wonder since all I seem to wait for now is aloneness.
Week two of uni. — Monday and Tuesday have been terrible. Mentally sickening. I have been avoiding the few people I know. I feel like I’m fighting against the whole world. Everyone is a fierce adversary. I’m the weakest, the weirdest, the friendless. Side note to anyone daring to sit next to me whilst a bunch of free and spacious seats still remain: sorry I’m no fun to be around, sorry you’re not going to have an interesting talk with me (a.k.a. the quiet boring girl in class) and most of all, I’m sorry you thought you would.
I have found some relief in sleep, between music and moleskine notebooks. Whilst in class, my mind is shut down. The independence given by the university system has urged me to cut two entire afternoons of classes. As I couldn’t find any way to handle discomfort and to cope with the pain, I found myself wandering through streets. For about an hour, I was getting lost somewhere I did not know. Getting lost as my mind was. I ran away.
I ran away the same way I did three months ago as the final high school bell had rung.
Running away from this huge amphitheater where all I can seize is the gaze of others upon me.
Running away from my life.
Running away from myself.
Running away from acceptance.
Running away from the truth.
Running away from honesty.