“The next station is St. George. St. George Station.” My hands grip tighter around the strap of my bag as I prepare to leave the train. Once again, out of stubbornness, here I am carrying my suitcase up the stairs instead of using the elevator. The wheels glide against the ground as I slowly but steadily make my way to the Bloor Street crossroad. The view of Robarts Library appears from the distance, causing a rush of emotions to run through my veins as it finally dawns on me how much I had missed this place ever since I left at the end of April. I take a deep breath and begin walking across the street just as the lights change color. I grab the TCard in my pocket that had not seen the light of day for four months and bring it out to once again look at the all-too-familiar face. Across the street in front of Innis College, I see the very same person getting out of a car and stepping foot on campus for the first time. 

Looking back at myself, I remember my excitement about finally starting my journey at U of T, a place where I hoped to figure out who I wanted to be in life. The introductions at breakfast tables during orientation and the midnight conversations about the purpose of life in study rooms made me realize I was exactly where I wanted to be: a place where I finally felt a sense of belonging, surrounded by a supportive community I began to deeply care for from the bottom of my heart. Throughout the year, I started finding pieces of myself in the simplest moments: while admiring the snow sitting on a bench beside Emmanuel Library, walking in Front Campus late at night from a lecture at the Medical Sciences building, during random conversations with friends on my way to a tutorial at Wilson Hall, and even on the bus ride back from a ski trip at Blue Mountain.

My room, with each passing day, became filled with pictures, drawings, gifts, silly trophies, and papers that turned it from the empty room it was at the beginning into somewhere I began to call home by the end of the year. The 2 a.m. rock-metal jam sessions while my suitemate battled linear algebra and I, my lab report, turned into core memories. The walks back to the residence after a 3 a.m. exam cram session with my friend from Robarts Commons made me see the beauty in the quiet streets of the night while the pool table in the residence turned into my usual hangout spot with friends as we caught up on life and ran away from everything for just a few hours.

Somewhere amongst the sleepless nights, the consecutive alarm clocks set for 9 a.m. lectures, the rushed walks to labs, the forced smiles behind video calls, and the restless anxiety of upcoming deadlines, a feeling of self-doubt grew within me, feeding off of every small mistake and creating an overwhelming sense of falling behind. I grew tired of feeling like I had to be perfect and obsessed with everything in order to be good enough, while spiralling thoughts became the norm and consumed my passion for learning. After mentally hitting rock bottom following three midterms in three consecutive days, a simple “How are you doing?” from a friend brought me back to my senses, made me realize how harsh I’ve been on myself with all the rising expectations, and helped me forgive myself as I started to see my value as a person beyond the definitions I had tied it to.

Just as the flowers started blooming across campus in April, the final exam study sessions turned into days trying to fit the life I had created for myself in boxes. I left for the summer to reunite with my family after two years of missing them while living abroad, hoping I had made them proud. Being a student never ended with my last exam at Clara Benson on a random Monday; it continued well into the summer through books, drawings, volunteering, and coffee chats with friends. In the summer heat, on evening walks beside the beach and over family dinner conversations, I found myself stronger than before, with a clearer vision of who I wanted to be. 

My first year wasn’t perfect, but I learned to appreciate it for all it taught me. It made me the person I am, and I couldn’t have wished for it to turn out any better, with all the amazing people I met and the unexpected experiences I encountered along the way. The next year awaits me as I take a step toward believing in myself more and becoming more spontaneous by trying new things and continuing to pour my energy into my passions instead of my fears. 

Here I am, standing in front of my past self across the street, yet with a great distance in time separating us. I know that if she could see me, she’d be proud of the person I’ve become, and that’s all I need to keep going. I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding, wipe the tears off my face with a smile, and continue walking because I know we’ll be just fine.