Amare

First Day Nerves

Ai’s Point of View

“See ya, dad, take care,” I said as I was getting out of the car and slinging my backpack.

“Alright, stay safe, just message me if you need me to pick you up,” dad said with a nod

I closed the door and waved at him, saying “Yes dad, or I will try commuting for once”

I waved my dad goodbye and turned around towards the University

As I approached the university gates, a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety swirled inside me, like a dance I couldn’t quite keep up with.

Though the morning air was refreshingly cool, it couldn’t soothe the heavy feeling in my chest.

Everywhere I looked, students moved in a blur of activity. Laughter filled some groups, others were lost in conversation, a few hurried by, late, while some lingered as if time stood still.

I shifted my backpack, aware of its weight. Was it just the textbooks, or the symbolic weight of this day, the start of something new?

I scanned the scene: the towering gates ahead, the sunlight gleaming off the buildings, the soft crunch of leaves under my sneakers.

The aroma of coffee drifted from a nearby cafe, grounding me, making the whole thing feel more real, more immediate.

And then it hit me—this was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. But as quickly as the excitement bubbled up, doubt followed. What if I’m not meant to be here? What if everyone else already had their lives figured out?

I exhaled, shaking off the thought. A deep breath in—one of those breaths where you try to summon just enough courage to keep going.

“You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself, unsure if the words escaped my lips or remained as just a thought in my head.

It wasn’t much, but as I crossed the threshold of the gate and joined the stream of students, I felt a jolt of excitement, enough to move me forward.

Maybe that was all I needed—just a small push to keep going.

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I adjusted the strap of my backpack as I go up the stairs, each step a deliberate effort to stay calm. The chatter of students echoed in the hallways, a blend of unfamiliar voices, scattered laughter, and the occasional squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. The sound felt like a rhythm I wasn’t sure I could match yet.

The first day was always the toughest: unfamiliar faces, new surroundings, and the unavoidable task of introductions. I couldn’t stand them, not because of shyness, but because I found the idea of being summed up in a few words unsettling. Name, hometown, a fun fact about yourself. It felt like a script, too superficial for your true self, yet too burdensome when humour failed.

I reached the top of the stairs and paused for a moment, taking in the wide hallway lined with classrooms. Students stood in small clusters, some already chatting animatedly while others scrolled through their phones, their faces a mix of boredom and focus. I tried to pick out a door number from my schedule, my mind briefly blanking as I scanned the corridor.

Room 3B. My fingers curled tightly around the strap of my bag as I found the door slightly open, and peeked inside.

Rows of desks arranged in neat lines, a few already occupied by students who looked far more composed than I felt. The professor wasn’t here yet, which was both a relief and an invitation for my nerves to build.

I slipped into the room quietly, choosing a seat somewhere in the middle—not too conspicuous, but not so far back that I looked like I was hiding. The seat gave me some courage, the will to not run out of this room and just go home.

I unpacked my notebook and a pencil, arranging them neatly on the desk as if it would somehow help me feel more prepared.

Around me, snippets of conversation floated in and out of focus. Someone was talking about their summer trip abroad. Another person laughed at a joke I hadn’t heard.

I pressed my pencil lightly against the paper, drawing small loops absentmindedly as I tried to keep my breathing steady.

‘Just get through today’ I told myself. One day at a time.

The door opened wider, and a few more students filtered in, their energy filling the room.

The room settled into a hum of activity, like the faint buzz of a hive. I kept my gaze low, pretending to focus on the faint loops I was sketching on the corner of my notebook.

The lines intertwine, forming shapes that makes no sense and meaningful at the same time. My hand moved almost without thought, my pencil gliding softly over the paper bringing out the hidden image I saw from the random scribbles.

I wasn’t able to continue as the professor finally arrived.