New semester is supposed to bring new hope, the brightness of your whole future ahead of you, a fresh page and a new leaf. Determination to make today better than yesterday, this semester, better than the last. But panic seizes up inside of me. I realize I’m now a third year student, a final year student, one that will, insha’Allah, be a graduate by this time next year. I’m not ready for this. After all, what do I know? I’m suddenly a senior that needs to dish out advice to my juniors if they come asking. I’m supposed to have a degree of surety in whatever i have been taught. University life seems so short. I have not accomplished anything worth shouting about, and I’m definitely not armed for the reality of the outside world. My life, as always has been the protected, sheltered one. One that, you could say, was on the easy rote. Family always never more than a few minutes away. Environment, familiar, as were the faces.
I’m hoping it might just be new semester jitters, but I’ve been in an abysmal mood since the first day.
One of my seniors said, as an architect, you can’t just wait around for things to happen. You have to be ahead of the crowd, you have to know your strengths and not be shy about telling people what you’re good at. I don’t think I could ever do that. The thing I hate most to do is to be an imposition on anyone. I don’t want to be putting anyone on the spot. Which is why I don’t ask the questions that really bug me, even if they eat me up inside. But I digress.
Cheer up, Maryam! C’mon…