University

I love university, and it's also slowly breaking me. Both are true at the same time, and somehow that's the most university thing of all.

It starts with waking up early. The alarm rings, and I'm already tired before my feet touch the floor. I drag myself out of bed, not because I'm motivated, but because attendance is watching. Every lecture is a tiny negotiation: Do I need this percentage? Can I afford to skip? Should I just show up and be physically present while my mind is somewhere far away? So I go, sit in the third row, and nod like someone who slept eight hours.

Then comes the part nobody warns you about: everything arrives at once. Internal assignments, presentations, readings, all stacking up like they've coordinated a surprise attack. One deadline hasn't even finished breathing before the next one walks in. And somewhere between all this, I'm told to participate in co-curriculars, because apparently a good student is also a debater, a writer, a member of three societies, and someone who "balances it all so well."

Does anyone actually balance it? Or are we all just dropping things quietly and hoping no one notices?

And then the internships and research papers, the things that matter for the future, the things everyone says will "build your profile." I want to do them well. I really do. But I'm writing at midnight, citing at 2 a.m., and wondering when exactly I'm supposed to think deeply when I barely have time to think at all.

The hardest part is finding time for myself. My own hobbies sit in a corner, patient and neglected, like friends I keep promising to call. I miss them. I miss doing something just because I enjoy it, without a grade or a certificate attached. Some days even rest feels like something I have to earn.

But here's the thing: I still love it. I love the late-night conversations, the chaos in the corridors, the feeling of being surrounded by people who are all running toward something. I love that I'm learning things I'll carry for life. I love who I'm slowly becoming.

So yes, it's exhausting. Yes, it's overwhelming. And yes, it's a little heartbreaking when I can't keep up with everything.

But I'll keep showing up, tired, stretched thin, and still somehow grateful.

Because this is the messy, beautiful middle of becoming someone. 🤍