This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Ashoka chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Edited by: Sakshi Bhagat
- I have an exam tomorrow that I am horrendously underprepared for and my unpreparedness crashes down on me as I leave my room to get coffee. And I feel okay about it. I know I have enough time, that I will find a way somehow. I know I can buy my coffee and you are there, somewhere, waiting for me. I can sip my coffee in peace with you, and look at the trees, listen to the sounds of my campus. I can delight in looking at Twitter in peace for 10 minutes. There is never not enough time to enjoy the delight of a warm coffee with you. It took me getting to the second year of university and finding it in myself to sit with just you and my hot mocha for me to feel like I am not running out of time.
- I am talking to my best friend from back home and I realise I have been walking around campus for three hours and it is very late in the night. Late enough that listening to her stories for 15 more minutes and making up new things to talk about cannot mess up my sleep anymore. So I keep talking and walking, but it is late and I am tired. I find you, somewhere. You sit with me in silence, let me enjoy the stories you know I have been wanting to hear but have not been able to for the last three weeks. You let me rest my head against you, let me feel safe and warm and nostalgic in the happy way, not in the sad way that makes me cry. You don’t know it but I never feel more at home than when I am with you.
- We are second years who are not ready to be third years, and the last few weeks of our second year make our hearts ache. We have too much to study, too many papers to write, too many exams to give before we can go home but we cannot, in good conscience, end our second year like this— all of us stressed, busy and apart. So we resolve to take the longer route back from lunch and dinner everyday, just so we can see you. Just so we can sit with you for a while and sing along to our favourite songs, laugh at jokes we think we will be too mature for in our third year even though we know in our hearts we will find the same things funny. You listen to us reminisce, hear our stories, hear our fears that we can only seem to confess to each other in your company. I don’t think I am going to be a very good third year. I don’t feel like I have accomplished enough to be a third year. I don’t feel ready. I am really scared. I don’t want time to run out this fast. I want to be here with all of you for longer. Our time together cannot already be half over. You tell us not to worry because you will be right here next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. We remind you of the time you disappeared for a month. You said you will always come back.
- Something Bad happened in the first week of my first year, and I did not have it in me to keep it together or call my friends or restrain my anxiety and sadness until I reached my room. I unraveled in the middle of the campus. My hands were shaking, my cheeks were becoming warmer and warmer, my throat was closing up, my eyes were blurring. I hobbled around for a few minutes trying to find you. I knew, even then, that you were always around, just around the corner somewhere as long as I looked hard enough. You let me hold on to you, let me gain a modicum of privacy even in public. I was fragile but you were tough. You were strong, you refused to break, refused to let me break. You are the same way even now. You let me stay with you as long as I liked, and let me go when I deemed myself okay. You didn’t ask questions, and I was glad, because I did not want to give anyone any answers. That day, I could hold my head up and get on with things. I knew if something bad happened, you would be right around the corner. I still know. You still are always around the corner.
- We did not talk much after that day, at least for a few months. I got too involved in the routines of campus life, in making sure I fit the image I had in my head of an adept and well-adjusted first year. I always saw you on my way to class or to meetings, and eventually things got a little awkward and I stopped smiling back at you. But my new friend was really good friends with you, and she told me one day that she absolutely had to go and meet you and I had to come with her. I hesitated a little, but gave in eventually. I thought you were really cool, I did want to be friends with you, I just did not know how. But we sat with you, and she said she wanted to play us some music she liked. You did not say much— neither of us did— but we all did just sit there together, listening to music, singing along when we knew the words. That night was the first night I felt like I had friends on campus. Her mom called her when we were nine songs in, and, for a few minutes, it was just both of us. I was going to apologise for not smiling at you but didn’t quite know how to do that not-awkwardly, so I just sat there with you. Enjoyed a comfortable silence until my friend came back. But the next day, I smiled at you and you smiled back. And when I got coffee, you called me over. We enjoyed the songs and the silence again. We have enjoyed so many songs and so many silences now, so many coffees I have bought that you have taken a sip from. Found each other by happy accident so many times. I don’t know anyone except you who would listen to my music and not demand to play songs of their own, who would not ask questions of me when all I really want is something steady, who would always be right around the corner wherever I go. I love you, you know that, right? I really, really do. I keep looking for you around the corner but I never feel anxious about it. I know you’ll always be there.