Dear diary,
There’s something so pure about the way first year students look at this place.Their eyes practically sparkle with excitement, like the campus is alive just for them. And honestly, it makes me happy. Genuinely. There’s a warmth in seeing their energy, their curiosity, the way they believe this is the beginning of something big.
I just hope that light in them doesn’t dim… not the way it did in me.
They’re some of the sweetest people I’ve met so eager, so full of hope. I wish them all the best. I really do. Because I remember when I was one of them. I used to wake up early, heart racing with motivation. I’d arrive before class even started, so ready to learn, to begin. I remember that version of me vividly she was bright and driven.
But somewhere along the way, something flickered out. The light that used to burn so fiercely just… faded. It’s not that I’ve given up on my studies no not at all. I’m still here, still pushing through. But that spark? The thrill? It feels like it belonged to someone else.
I talk like an old woman now, and I’m only in third year—how funny is that?