I chose that place

like I had no other option.

I hated it—

ten hours away from home,

the journey itself felt too heavy,

too much for me.

I hadn’t planned a life there.

I was only ready

to survive each day.

And then, slowly…

one fresher’s day

broke open my shell.

The tag “introvert”

was never mine again.

I didn’t know

I could be an entertainer.

That arts and sports

could feel like home.

That culturals

would become my favourite space.

I fell in love with the stage.

Still in a situationship with books.

Everything I learned

was not easy—

but I managed.

Somewhere along the way,

I realised—

this science chose me,

I didn’t choose it.

And strangely,

that felt like a blessing.

Still…

I was always sick.

They called it homesickness.

Even my parents agreed.

But in between all that,

I found something—

my joy.

They called me

an energy bomb.

And when someone mocked my marks,

that energy—

exploded into high scores.

I met a new version of myself there.

Exams, projects, presentations, tours—

everything became lighter.

Even the same ten-hour distance

felt easier to carry.

Seniors adored me.

Juniors too.

Somewhere in between,

even teachers did.

And then came the last day.

I cried…

more than I expected.

The journey back home

felt unbearable this time.

Why did I cry?

What did I really miss?

Not the people.

Not the place.

Not even the memories.

But the stage.

The stage

that showed me who I am.

That was the place

where I felt safe…

where I felt alive.

But I can never go back.

Because going back to that stage

means revisiting a version of me

that I have already outgrown,

already rebooted…

already become someone beyond.