Crying in a random stairwell for no reason.
CRYING IN A RANDOM STAIRWELL FOR NO REASON.
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We’ve all been there, haven't we? The pristine color-coded notes, the meticulously planned study schedules, the almost obsessive pursuit of academic perfection. From the outside, it looks like a well-oiled machine, churning out brilliant minds. But beneath the surface of those perfectly organized binders and late-night library sessions, lies a mental rollercoaster most don't openly discuss.
Remember the thrill of grasping complex concepts, the adrenaline of a successful presentation? That's one side. The other? Relentless pressure, the gnawing imposter syndrome whispering that you don't belong, the sheer exhaustion during finals week. It's the silent battle fought late at night, fueled by caffeine and an unwavering drive.
And then those moments. Unexpected tears in an empty stairwell, a quiet corner of the stacks, or behind a closed dorm room door. Not necessarily from a bad grade, but the cumulative weight of expectations, isolation, the sheer volume of demands. It’s a release, a moment of vulnerability where it often feels like weakness. If you're a current student, you're nodding. If you've graduated, familiar memories are surfacing. This shared experience, this quiet understanding, is as much a part of our history as any lecture hall. It’s proof you're not alone in navigating the highs and profound lows.