I must record how I felt on my first day back to school. As now, I am to be a part of the sophomores enjoying being the new third year, that I was last year, it felt awkward. It was awkward but not necessarily bad. Or bad at all though sadness was the only feeling that I sensed myself filled with, surrounded by hopeful, cheerful, confused and excited juniors, greeting, meeting and reuniting with their friends after holidays, I felt the needlessness of my existence in that hall. I was not part of this picture. And would I ever be? I dunno. Anyways, the day began, I was welcomed in the van by one of my previous batchmates and one of my present batchmates as well, as for my old friend and colleague we smiled and shook hands and talked about how her finals went. Not very pleasant for me. Then, I was accompanied by the present batchmate to the Lecture Hall, I shall call her Squirrel from today onwards, as she's small and gullible yet smart. Like I said, few of the juniors who I knew were very glad to join me, for no other reason than I could be their guide through this roller coaster ride of a third year, also they know me well enough not to die of shyness or ego/pride (?) while greeting may be. Few being two. May be that's because my best friend's cousin is still visiting her family in Riyadh. Also, because I know, something is always better than nothing. Either way, I am prepared. I must confess even after all that complying stress from my friend that her cousin would be of help and I should hang out with her since I am stuck with juniors that I dun like, I am pretty much looking forward to not being part of her group. I don't know, I just feel like that.
Minutes before the first lecture started, one of my Survival Rules were challenged. Since, the other of the two present batchmates, let's call her Zany, who was sitting in the very first row of the second segment of seats, asked me to join her and insisted that everything will be alright, while I stood confused amidst aisles, trying to figure out should I let my guard down that I had on,in order to avoid any harmful contact with the teachers - I sat with her.
As I sat there, my heart kept pounding at a pace that was horribly slow yet panicky. The teacher arrived, to my delight it was CM's class. The teacher was none other than Dr. Fawwad. A student counselor and present day editor of the college magazine. Not to mention, knows me well. The fact that a reasonable person that she is, relieved me. But it was still awkward. Her gaze didn't affirm any recognition which was purely pretended, to not to make me feel uncomfortable, I assume. And I didn't, as per my resolve, answer any of her class questions except for the Autism one.The thing with me being nervous in interacting with teachers is that they remind me of the fact that I didn't deserve this, which stirs the settled distress, disappointment and rage. Also, the gaze in which I sense disappointment and sympathy. I don't like to be sympathized. As strange as this may sound, that's how I am like.
Second lecture was of Pharmacology, Professor Khaksaar (that's not his name, just my obnoxious way of referring to him :P) was there, with his hardly audible voice, messed up English and lots of Arabic translations of the names of the Pharmacological branches. Like Pharmacokinetics which was supposedly to be taught but wasn't, is Uroodal-Jismani-Haq-al Advia rather Harkiyat-ul-Advia, Pharmacodynamics means Tehrikat-ul-Advia and Toxicology is Zehar Unwani in Arabic. 0_0 How is that supposed to help us learn the subject? Was one thing echoing throughout that one hour lecture in which above mentioned Arabic translations and merely the definition of Pharmacology was dragged to be explained, and I'm not making this up. SERIOUSLY? I mean, it's a vast subject. And it's to be learned in a year only. Not enough time, Sir.
Then, we went to the Hospital. Where I found out that I was in the same group as Squirrel's. We were posted in Surgery ward. Since, I couldn't find my previous mentor, I went to the ward to take histories at my own. I collected few, showed Squirrel how was this supposed to be done. The next day, my previous mentor was accidentally encountered. And he was SO shocked, said I was the last person he could imagine in this situation. Inquired what led to this. And expressed his concern over the re-occurrence of such a thing and suggested to be vocal about this. I felt horrible, my popularity is actually being a curse. I just dun like being probed about something that I am already having difficulty in dealing with. I am already exceptionally sad. And wish I could disappear in thin air, whenever familiar faces are encountered.
They say time heals. I just wish it passes a little more faster than it usually does.
Minutes before the first lecture started, one of my Survival Rules were challenged. Since, the other of the two present batchmates, let's call her Zany, who was sitting in the very first row of the second segment of seats, asked me to join her and insisted that everything will be alright, while I stood confused amidst aisles, trying to figure out should I let my guard down that I had on,in order to avoid any harmful contact with the teachers - I sat with her.
As I sat there, my heart kept pounding at a pace that was horribly slow yet panicky. The teacher arrived, to my delight it was CM's class. The teacher was none other than Dr. Fawwad. A student counselor and present day editor of the college magazine. Not to mention, knows me well. The fact that a reasonable person that she is, relieved me. But it was still awkward. Her gaze didn't affirm any recognition which was purely pretended, to not to make me feel uncomfortable, I assume. And I didn't, as per my resolve, answer any of her class questions except for the Autism one.The thing with me being nervous in interacting with teachers is that they remind me of the fact that I didn't deserve this, which stirs the settled distress, disappointment and rage. Also, the gaze in which I sense disappointment and sympathy. I don't like to be sympathized. As strange as this may sound, that's how I am like.
Second lecture was of Pharmacology, Professor Khaksaar (that's not his name, just my obnoxious way of referring to him :P) was there, with his hardly audible voice, messed up English and lots of Arabic translations of the names of the Pharmacological branches. Like Pharmacokinetics which was supposedly to be taught but wasn't, is Uroodal-Jismani-Haq-al Advia rather Harkiyat-ul-Advia, Pharmacodynamics means Tehrikat-ul-Advia and Toxicology is Zehar Unwani in Arabic. 0_0 How is that supposed to help us learn the subject? Was one thing echoing throughout that one hour lecture in which above mentioned Arabic translations and merely the definition of Pharmacology was dragged to be explained, and I'm not making this up. SERIOUSLY? I mean, it's a vast subject. And it's to be learned in a year only. Not enough time, Sir.
Then, we went to the Hospital. Where I found out that I was in the same group as Squirrel's. We were posted in Surgery ward. Since, I couldn't find my previous mentor, I went to the ward to take histories at my own. I collected few, showed Squirrel how was this supposed to be done. The next day, my previous mentor was accidentally encountered. And he was SO shocked, said I was the last person he could imagine in this situation. Inquired what led to this. And expressed his concern over the re-occurrence of such a thing and suggested to be vocal about this. I felt horrible, my popularity is actually being a curse. I just dun like being probed about something that I am already having difficulty in dealing with. I am already exceptionally sad. And wish I could disappear in thin air, whenever familiar faces are encountered.
They say time heals. I just wish it passes a little more faster than it usually does.
