Going back to school after taking a year off had its own effects—especially considering the fact that I hadn't opened a single book during that time.
It wasn't just about missing classes.
It felt like I had lost a part of myself.
I had to take extra lessons to get back on track, and everything felt strange. Sitting in a classroom again, holding a pen, trying to focus—it all felt unfamiliar, like I was stepping into a life I used to know but no longer recognized.
Reading is one of the few things that makes me happy.
After a year of not doing it, it felt like I had lost touch with reality. Like I had been disconnected from the one thing that made sense to me.
Getting back into it wasn't easy. Words didn't flow the way they used to. My concentration wasn't as sharp. Sometimes I'd read a page and realize I hadn't understood anything.
Still, I kept going.
Because I knew something—I needed this.
If I wanted to go back to school, if I wanted to feel even slightly normal again, then I had to reconnect with it.
I love school too.
Not just for the learning, but for what it represents.
An escape.
A way to get away from my family.
Don't get me wrong—I love them.
But sometimes, I'd rather be around strangers.
People who don't know me.
People who don't expect anything from me.
Especially people closer to my age.
At home, I always felt out of place.
There's a ten-year gap between my brother and me, while the others are only two or three years apart. They understand each other in ways I don't. Their conversations flow naturally, while I just sit there, feeling like an outsider in my own family.
Communication was difficult.
Not that I really tried—but even when I did, it never felt right.
It's different in school.
Even when I don't talk much, I feel like I belong there more than I do at home.
Most of my classmates were older than me.
But instead of feeling intimidated, I felt… different.
In a good way.
I had an early education, thanks to my mom being a teacher. She pushed me, guided me, made sure I stayed ahead.
I was always the smart one.
The one teachers noticed.
The one classmates whispered about.
I stood out.
And because of that, I was often alone.
Just me and my books.
In my own little world.
I didn't fit in.
Not really.
It got a little better when the school made me skip a grade. I fit in more with the older students, but even then, something still felt off.
I didn't see anyone as competition.
Not because I was arrogant—but because everything felt too easy.
It was like I was just… passing through.
And before I knew it, I had graduated early.
At sixteen, I was already writing college entrance exams.
But life doesn't always go according to plan.
That one year off changed everything.
During that time, I received offers from schools.
Opportunities most people would jump at.
But I couldn't take them.
I couldn't leave my mom.
She was in the hospital, and I was the only one who could stay with her.
My oldest sibling had just given birth.
My second sibling was pregnant.
That environment wasn't suitable for her.
Our third sibling was in military school.
And the fourth had run away from home.
So that left me.
Just me.
As much as I wanted to leave, as much as I wanted to live my own life, I couldn't.
Not because I was strong.
But because I had no choice.
I didn't have the means to survive on my own.
So I stayed.
August came, and I wrote my entrance exams, hoping for good news.
September came.
Nothing.
School resumed.
Still nothing.
At some point, I gave up.
Not completely—but enough to stop expecting anything.
I had other options.
Private universities.
But they didn't feel right.
Most of them required me to study medical courses.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Great professions.
Just not for me.
I never liked biology.
And what medical student doesn't love biology?
So I waited.
I wanted a public university.
Somewhere I could study what I actually wanted.
Even though… I didn't even know what that was.
All I knew was this:
I wanted to go back to school.
I wanted to leave home.
October came.
Still nothing.
And just when I was about to give up completely—
I got the news.
I had been admitted.
I got into the university.
I was offered an engineering course.
I wasn't even thinking about the course.
I didn't care whether I liked it or not.
All I felt was relief.
Happiness.
Freedom.
I wasn't going to stay at home anymore.
I resumed in December.
Completed my registration.
Did everything required of me.
It was close to Christmas, so after everything, I went back home.
But January came quickly.
And this time, I returned for good.
I got my own place.
Just the way I wanted it.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
Mine.
The school was about a two-hour drive from my father's house, so he visited occasionally.
Checking on me.
Making sure I was okay.
He still doesn't believe I've moved on from my mom's death.
But I don't have the energy to convince him otherwise.
I have other things to deal with.
Like school.
I resumed late.
Missed a lot of classes.
And catching up wasn't easy.
College is different.
There's no guidance.
No one holding your hand.
The lecturer comes, teaches, and leaves.
Whether you understand or not—it's your problem.
And the students?
They don't care.
Everyone is just trying to survive.
I made friends.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I had no choice.
My first friend was… persistent.
Too persistent.
No matter how many times I tried to ignore him, he didn't get the message.
Instead, he kept showing up.
Talking.
Smiling.
Acting like we had known each other forever.
Then one day, he introduced me to his friends.
And just like that—
I had a group.
They were nice.
Helpful.
They tried to help me catch up.
Explained things.
Shared notes.
Stayed around when I needed them.
But somehow…
Even in the middle of all that—
I still felt alone.
Like I didn't fully belong.
So I started pulling away.
Not completely.
Just enough.
I spent more time in my room.
Cooking.
Reading.
Being by myself.
Because that's where I feel most like me.
They were a crowd.
And I've never really been good with crowds.