Dear Friend,
As much as I have tried to convince myself that it’s
beautiful all the time, the fact that I’m in college, the truth is, it is not.
It’s beauty is ephemeral, in moments, in moments that are fleeting way too fast
for me to realize its beauty in it’s perfect sense, in it’s deepest and purest
sense. I’m maybe just a statistic in the number of people who have not been
able to understand the true emotion of being in college. Maybe there’s a
protocol that we follow, generations after generations, that makes it easier to
bond over what we call as College Life, in conversations 10 years from today.
And this is what scares me. I’m afraid to look into the future, at myself, at a
moment, where I can’t make conversation with people because I have lacked in
the subtle art of experiencing college as an emotion. Yes. That is it. It’s an
emotion and I could never connect to it.
There are different ways for people to quantify what
they call as fun or adventure in life. I am not sure if mine is as mellifluous
enough as everybody else’s. Every now and then, when we are working towards a
goal, we see slight improvements during the regular grinds and more often than
not, people around me have asked me to celebrate these little things. I have
been asked to celebrate for every little victory that I achieve, but I can’t, I
just can’t bring myself to do that, to enjoy small things. I appreciate them.
But I don’t celebrate them. I don’t celebrate because I am torn apart from the
inside with the feeling that, I don’t deserve to celebrate. And i have never
been able to figure out why I feel the way I do, I have never been able to shut
it off or let go of it.
My college life seems to be a accumulation of missed out
fun and parties, of drinks with friends, of breaks after exams because I wanted
to get back to my sport as soon as I could, of treks that I could never take,
of friends that I could not make, of the grades I could not score, of awards I
could not win, of a constant series of failures and heartbreaks that I’d hide
in my pillows at night, of jokes I didn’t get anymore. But I’ve been happy in a
very mysterious way I never thought was possible. I have been happy in the
pursuit of what sets my heart on fire.
It hurts though, to be alone and on my own most of the
time, to walk the streets alone and to share those little joys alone. But I
think I’ll be fine. I still have one more year of college left and maybe the
next post will be entirely different from how it is right now, or maybe it
could be the same, or even worse. I don’t know. Not now at least. But I think
I’ll be fine as long as I am chasing my dreams.
I don’t have memories I feel. I don’t have them. I
don’t know what blurry drunk nights look like, what clicking with a stranger in
a crowd full of unknown people would feel like, what running away to the
mountains to escape the normal vituperation of people all alone would feel
like, I don’t know what treks with friends or running in the wild with a gang
of important people would feel like, I am not sure if what I do will quantify
as adventure.
My feelings are so paradoxical I can’t even start to understand
them. At some point, I feel like i’m missing out on all the fun in life and a
lot of other times, I feel like maybe not. Maybe, fun to me is doing another
set of throws or working on another research project, or thinking about a new
video idea or playing the violin. I feel alive when I do more. I want to spend
my life learning new things, new talents and I think I am at a place right now
because of the choices I made. My best friend once told me that when you choose
a hard life, you can’t even complain about life being unfair to you. It’s true
though. I chose everything and I’ve suffered because of it and it’s okay. It
really is okay. I am at peace with it.
Love always,
Urja
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