It’s been a week since I got here, yet it feels like a hundred have passed. Between learning how to live with 23 other people (and three roommates 😅), understanding the projects, and figuring out where I actually am… a week feels far too short for everything that has happened.
The song I have on repeat right now is this one:
The past week was… how to put it… hard? Surrounded by a lot of people, but at the same time, somehow lonely? I’m still excited about this project, but I haven’t found my place in it yet.
I know I was lost before coming here… maybe I still am, and finding “me time” to try to understand myself feels like a quest. Between classes, debates, meals, and sleep, even the idea of watching a movie or playing on my Switch feels impossible.
Sometimes I think I’m too old for this “shared” life. Everyone is wonderful and inspiring, but the drama, the moods, the vibes not vibing… it’s like kindergarten most days.
And I already know way too much gossip for just one week. 😂
I feel the need to go back to my poetic way of writing — to start a new section maybe, with digitally written letters. Letters that capture what I feel. Especially when I’m low.
But truthfully… the first week was nice. I walked my steps every day. I laughed. I cried. I stressed… maybe too much. And I probably have a few more grey hairs to show for it.
All in all… I am curious about this second week and the weeks after that. I need to know which will be my project. Where I will go. And the tasks I will have.