I feel like a card board cut-out. Two dimensional.

Of who, I don’t know. Myself maybe. I’m tired, so tired every moment. And before you say “It’s because you don’t eat breakfast” no, not that kind of tired. I find myself running from class to class, lecture to lecture, womenwomenwomenwomenwomenwomen all around. My legs just carry me around without me knowing where I am going, just that I have to be someplace. Like I’m on auto-pilot.

Exactly a month ago, I started college. And I just realized that I was probably holding my breath this whole time wondering if someone was going to stop me and say ‘ok time to get back to real life now’ . And then whoosh I would find myself back at school, back in the corridors, back with my school friends and back with the familiar faces all around me.

Do I still want that? Familiar has a new meaning now. Familiar is now brown and cream. Familiar now is the college song, the canteen, the sloping driveways, the notice boards, the three flights of stairs I have to walk to psychology class. Familiar is the wooden benches, the comfort of the studio. Familiar now is ma’am.

I looked at a picture today, and I miss it all. I miss knowing I’d find a seat on the bus. I miss knowing that the bus would arrive on time. I miss knowing that I didn’t have keep track of which stop, that I could sit wherever I pleased. I miss knowing attendance would be taken only twice a day, and not six times. I miss being able to walk into the library any time I wanted to, and borrow anything I liked.

But I’m not holding my breath anymore. Faces are blurry. Schedules are fuzzy. Voices are faint.

I’m in the grey space. The ‘adjusting period’. There’s an explanation to everything.