Moving Forward Feels Heavy

Moving forward feels heavy.

Not because I’m afraid of change.

But because I’m moving away from the happiest place I’ve had in my life.

I miss my workplace so much.

It wasn’t perfect.

There were creepy people there too.

But despite everything, I loved that place.

I loved the work.

I loved the routine.

I loved the people.

And I genuinely felt that many of them loved me too.

It was the first place that gave me peace.

The first place where waking up every morning didn’t feel like a burden.

The first place where I genuinely felt happy.

For the first time in a very long time, life felt like it was moving in the right direction.

Then it ended.

That’s the hardest part.

The memories make me so happy.

I smile when I think about them.

I remember the people.

I remember the conversations.

I remember the work.

I remember how peaceful those days felt.

But those same memories make me equally sad.

Because they’re over.

That chapter of my life has ended.

Sometimes I try to forget those memories because remembering them hurts too much.

But I can’t.

They’re so deeply embedded in my core that I don’t think they’ll ever leave me.

They’re not just memories anymore.

They’ve become a part of me.

Sometimes they even come into my dreams.

For a few moments after waking up, it feels like I’m still there.

Then reality reminds me that I’m not.

And that hurts all over again.

And Sir…

I miss you the most.

I don’t even know how to explain that feeling.

I miss working with you.

I miss learning from you.

I miss your presence, your voice, conversations we had. I miss each of them.

Sometimes it genuinely feels like I can’t live without you, without the work, and without that office.

I know life moves on.

I know people move on.

I know I have to move on too.

But knowing that doesn’t make missing someone any easier.

Now I have to go back to college.

Everyone around me says it so casually.

But I don’t like the idea at all.

The thought of going back scares me.

It already makes me feel lonely.

Because I know what is waiting for me there.

I’ll again be in a place where not a single person feels truly close to me.

There are people who care about me.

I know that.

I have friends.

But that friendship is not what my heart longs for.

It isn’t deep enough.

I can’t completely rely on them.

I can’t break down in front of them without thinking.

Sometimes I even feel like they expect a version of me that I can’t keep giving.

The hardest truth is that I don’t even enjoy their company most of the time.

Still, I stay.

Because I don’t want to be alone.

But somewhere inside me, I know that’s only a drama I’m performing.

I sit with people so I don’t look lonely.

But inside, I still feel completely alone.

That feeling is killing me.

The strange thing is that college itself isn’t entirely bad.

There are so many things there that I genuinely love.

The trees.

The greenery.

The environment.

The quiet evenings.

Nature has always given me peace.

I’ve always believed I could be happy alone.

And in many ways, I still believe that.

I enjoy my own company.

I love sitting by myself.

I love writing.

I love thinking.

I love being surrounded by nature.

But I’ve realised something.

Enjoying solitude and having no one to rely on are two completely different things.

I don’t think I’m asking for people around me all the time.

I don’t need a crowd.

I don’t even need someone to solve my problems.

But I think every human being reaches a point where they want one person.

Just one.

One person in front of whom they can completely fall apart.

One person in front of whom they don’t have to explain why they’re crying.

One person who already understands.

One person who stays.

I don’t have that.

And whenever I think about it, I feel unbelievably lonely.

Going back to college also means something else.

Almost every place I loved there carries a memory of my ex.

The roads we walked on.

The places we sat.

The places that once made me happy.

I know those places are still beautiful.

But I also know they’ll reopen wounds I’ve been trying so hard to heal.

It’s like returning to two different worlds at the same time.

One filled with beautiful trees, quiet evenings, and the campus I genuinely love.

The other filled with memories that still hurt.

Maybe that’s why moving forward feels so heavy.

It feels like I’m leaving the best place I’ve known in my life…

Only to return to another place where happiness feels uncertain.

Where loneliness already waits for me before I’ve even reached there.

Where memories are waiting to reopen wounds I’ve spent months trying to close.

People say moving forward is a good thing.

Maybe they’re right.

But right now, moving forward doesn’t feel exciting.

It feels like carrying everything I’ve loved on my back while walking toward a place where I don’t know if I’ll find that kind of happiness again.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Not that I’m moving.

But that I’m moving away from the first place that truly felt like home…

without knowing when, or if, I’ll ever find another one.

There is one more thing I keep holding on to.

A tiny hope.

Maybe my juniors will be different.

I already know what my experience with my classmates has been.

I don’t think I’m expecting that to suddenly change.

That hope is almost gone.

So somewhere in my mind, I’ve shifted it somewhere else.

To the people I’ll meet next.

My juniors.

I know how strange that sounds.

Because all my life, I’ve admired seniors.

I’ve always felt drawn towards people who were older than me, more experienced, more mature, people who had seen more of the world than I had.

That’s naturally where I felt comfortable.

Not with juniors.

Still…

I’m holding on to that tiny possibility.

Maybe I’ll meet one person.

Just one.

Without that one small hope, I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive going back.

And then there’s another thought that keeps crossing my mind.

I’m getting braces.

A part of me keeps thinking that maybe I won’t look as good with them.

Maybe people won’t approach me because of the way I look.

And strangely…

That thought doesn’t hurt me as much as it probably should.

In fact, sometimes I think maybe that’s a good thing.

Maybe then the only person who comes close to me will be someone who genuinely likes me for who I am.

Not because of how I look.

Not because of anything superficial.

Maybe that person will actually want to know me.

Maybe…

And then reality interrupts that hope.

I know that probably won’t happen.

If I’m being honest with myself, I think there’s a 99% chance that it won’t.

Even if I do meet someone from my juniors, I already know what my mind will do.

I’ll keep reminding myself they’re younger than me.

They’re juniors.

They’re probably less experienced.

Maybe they haven’t seen enough of life yet.

I’ll become uncomfortable opening up.

I’ll overthink everything.

I’ll convince myself they won’t understand me.

I’ve already been close to a junior once before.

And that turned out to be one of the worst experiences of my life.

I know I don’t want to repeat that.

I know all of this.

And yet…

That remaining 1% refuses to disappear.

Maybe because I’m not actually searching for a junior.

Or a senior.

Or any particular kind of person.

I’m searching for one human being who won’t judge me.

Someone who can sit with me while I’m falling apart without trying to fix me.

Someone who listens instead of assuming.

Someone who stays instead of disappearing when life becomes complicated.

I don’t know if that person exists.

I don’t know where I’ll meet them.

I don’t know if I’ll meet them at all.

I just know that a part of me is still hoping.

And maybe that tiny hope is the only thing making the thought of going back to college feel even slightly bearable.