I didn’t expect the yearning.

It’s been only 3 years since I graduated college, since I left the crimson bricks of Harvard Yard and headed out into the “real world”. I’ve lived in 3 cities since, most recently hopping across the pond to settle in London.

Here, they call graduation “Commencement”, because you’re starting your life. It’s poetic, but I didn’t really believe them then. Surely I had already begun; surely such a name couldn’t be justified.

I have lived lifetimes since then.

It was tough when I first got to campus. I haven’t forgotten semesters of grasping at explanations for late-night sobs, more disturbed by the idea that my own emotions confused me than the emotions themselves. This was not uncommon: finding your place amidst a community of Intel prize winners and young authors, amidst 4-hour debates on efficient city designs and the merits of Welsh, amidst term papers and problem sets that required exponential leaps in knowledge — that’s hard. The quintessential freshman question has haunted these halls for centuries: “Do I really deserve to be here?”

Slowly but surely, you start to understand that the answer is indeed yes, because you’re much more than a transcript. Like a distant smell, you finally notice the magic of this place: you’re surrounded by wide eyes and insatiable curiosity, by passionate and excitable bundles of neurons.

The nights are still filled with primary citations and return errors and races against sunrises. The days are still filled with midterms and library stacks and logical flaws. But that’s okay, because that “ultra-nerdy” inquisitive soul you’ve had to hide in a corner at the back, whose pulse quickens and mind races at the satisfaction of understanding, has finally found its people.

By senior year, you might be on top of the world. You’ve got this place down. You’re comfortable and hungry for challenges you wouldn’t have imagined pursuing just four short years ago. You’re ready to commence.

That bittersweet day comes, and you bid farewell amidst generations of alumni who have returned for reunions (a brilliant move of timing from the University). This place has pushed you to your limits so you’d redefine what those are. It gave you belonging. It fed your passions. It showed you veritas.

But it’s sending you off now. Make it proud.

And you try. You try hard. You’re right back at freshmen year, but your campus is quite a bit bigger and mostly less inquisitive.

Success feels…malleable and abstract. You know what success isn’t, but there’s still a lot that it could be. And, as far as I can tell, if you’re doing it right, that’s always going to be true.

So you evolve and grow and change, again and again and again. The only way is forward. Well, except when you step off the path to look behind you.

That’s where I am now: by a snow-drift Yard, in a study hall tucked amidst the crimson bricks, listening to French grammar exercises and organic chemistry homework. I can’t help but move in slow motion, letting the memories seep in. I’m sitting in the past.

I’m overwhelmed. I don’t want to start over; I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to build a future here.

But, for once in my life, I just want to stand still.