It's not making sense. It's not making any sense at all. This life is supposed to be easier, more laid back, much, much simpler! Why is it the other way around?

 A clear picture of my college-life stresses might give you a better idea of what I'm talking about: 1) My ribs are showing up against my skin now, that's to deplore to you how thin I'm getting; 2) The eye bags (not that I ever cared about them in the first place) are seemingly carved into my skin now it's scary, and it doesn't help that it makes me look like the mother of four hundred; 3) Health's not getting any better; soda tastes just like water to me already, could you believe that?; and 4) Thoughts that are seriously off-track are entering my mind more often than normal (not that they were never welcome in the first place) and it is unnerving.

It's wrong. This is wrong. I knew it would end up like this, anyway, but I wasn't expecting it to be this hard, to be this ridiculously painful. I knew what leaving would entail, I knew what was in store for me the moment I'd left the hard grounds of the institution I'd loved for four years.

But I could never have known it to be this hard.

Because it won't do - it just fucking won't!

Nothing will do; nothing compares to the sweetness of the Balatas aroma, to the noise of first-day bustle, to the knowledge that in two weeks you'll memorize the faces - if not even the names - of everyone around you. Nothing compares to feeling so important, so belonged, so loved, inside a home that's small and crammed and dusty but so achingly familiar.

Nothing compares to the way we'd all walk home together along the side road, and how we used to really own the goddamn streets whenever we leave school. Nothing compares to the bliss of entering school gates in the morning, meeting well-known faces, and dropping off bags to go and attend the daily ceremonies. Nothing compares to the easily-memorized schedules, the same old teachers, the faces of classmates - faces that have been long engraved into memories of each other. Nothing compares to the multifaceted cultures and emotions and personalities that you have in each class and how you miraculously get along with each other despite a possible million reasons for you not to. Nothing compares; none at all.

Nothing compares to the high school air, the high school aura.

Simply put, nothing compares to high school itself.

But dear, oh dear College, don't get me wrong. I don't hold any grudges against you, no, Sir, none at all. I just wish you'd be a lot easier to deal with, just like those days, when we knew we were still young and we weren't forced to grow up faster than we should. When we could be short and small and not be minded (except for the occasional teasing, which shouldn't be a surprise, not when you've got about thirty-nine shallow-minded immature teenage friends with you), when you could be crazy and yet nobody cringes away from you in disgust, when people don't question you for weird habits (like wearing jackets on sunny days, for example)...

...Just like those days when we didn't have to shy away from the people around us.

You're a lot better that I would have thought, College, but I'm sorry.

High School still holds the number one spot in my heart.

And it never changed since I left.