Seeing hooded figures walk across the quad and pretending it’s normal.
SEEING HOODED FIGURES WALK ACROSS THE QUAD AND PRETENDING IT’S NORMAL.
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Remember those endless nights? The glow of a single desk lamp illuminating a mountain of textbooks, your meticulously color-coded notes a testament to a perfectionism born of ambition and fear. Perhaps you’ve spent hours in the hushed intensity of the library stacks, the quiet broken only by the occasional sigh or, if we’re honest, a muffled sob. That pressure, that relentless pursuit of excellence, it became a part of you, didn’t it? But amidst the academic rigor and the intense competitive spirit, there was another layer, an unspoken curriculum woven into the very fabric of the campus.
You know what we’re talking about. The whispers of secret societies, the hushed legends passed down from one cohort to the next. The campus myths that weren't just stories but felt like living, breathing entities. And then there were the figures. Sometimes alone, sometimes in hushed groups, always cloaked, gliding silently across the ancient quads under the cover of night. You’d catch a glimpse, your mind, already stretched thin by deadlines and late-night study sessions, would register the anomaly. A part of you would question it, wonder about the meaning, the purpose. But another, perhaps more dominant part, conditioned by the strange reality of this world, would simply decide it was normal. Just another Tuesday. Just another secret. Just another layer to the enigma that was, and still is, this institution. It’s a shared secret, isn’t it? A silent acknowledgement among those who've walked these hallowed, yet undeniably peculiar, grounds.