I sat quietly in the activity center, feeling like a stranger in my own university. Waiting for our next class to start, a heavy cloud of exhaustion hung over me.
I didn’t have the energy to look at my surroundings, at the students walking by, arguing, laughing, or crowding around the tables.
Some of them were hunched over, seriously reading their papers, as if every letter on those pages held their future.
Meanwhile, I was here, struggling to find my place in this world.
"When will I finally get out of this university?"
I asked myself, gazing at the clouds slowly drifting across the sky. Graduating felt like a distant dream.
I was so tired, not just physically but emotionally as well. Every day felt like a long journey through a desert with no end in sight.
A cool breeze brushed against my skin, and I suddenly felt the call of nature. I needed to go to the restroom.
I stood up, my movements almost automatic, like I was running on empty.
My classmates glanced at me, so I signaled that I was heading towards the restroom.
They nodded, and I gave a weary smile, a smile that felt as light as dust carried away by the wind.
As I walked, it felt like heavy chains were bound to my feet, each step bringing a twinge of pain and fatigue.
Today had been exhausting. We had done so much, especially with our group project of baking bread.
I watched the other students walking around, some whispering sweet nothings to each other, others dancing to their own rhythm of life.
But here I was, just trying to get through each second of the day.
Finally, I reached the restroom door, and a foul stench greeted me.
It smelled like a neglected sewer, releasing memories I didn’t want to revisit. I closed my eyes and covered my nose, but I kept going.
I entered an empty stall and, in the quiet confines, I felt like a bubble lost in the ocean—small, insignificant.
After relieving myself, I quickly flushed and rushed out of the stall.
I stopped in front of the mirror, and what I saw made me pause.
A stranger stared back at me—a tired face, with disheveled hair and sad eyes.
I tried to fix my hair with my fingers, hoping to hide the traces of exhaustion. I looked at my reflection, forcing a smile.
But the smile faded quickly, like smoke dissipating into the air.
Moments later, a girl entered and stood beside me.
She placed her bag on the sink and pulled out her makeup kit.
With every stroke of her powder puff and the application of lip tint, there was a sense of confidence and certainty.
She was beautiful—like the morning sun casting warmth on a cold day, bringing life to everything around her.
She noticed me watching, and when she smiled, I managed to nod and smile back. But the smile quickly vanished as she returned to her makeup routine.
She was a masterpiece, while I felt like a blank canvas devoid of color.
I sighed deeply.
I felt like a candle burning out, slowly melting under the weight of my worries. I glanced at my reflection once more and saw the weariness etched beneath my eyes.
With another deep breath, I left the restroom, leaving my own reflection behind.
Walking back to the activity center, I felt the heaviness of each step, the chill of the wind, and the loneliness inside me like a cloud that wouldn’t go away.
When would this weight finally lift?
When would the smile that carried genuine joy return?
But for now, these questions were my only companions—questions that seemed to have no answers.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
