The pedestrian light turned green, signaling to me that it was safe to cross. I didn’t move an inch. Standing in the midst of a steady midnight drizzle, I was lost in my thoughts. A countdown timer soon joined the lonely green man, maintaining a steady rhythm towards zero. Snapping awake, I realised I was much too late, for the green man had already vacated his position for his red counterpart. A curse word hung on my lips for a second, but I resisted the urge to release it. Foul words are best saved for foul people, therefore the situation did not warrant its use.

I took a second to picture how laughable a sight I must have been. The Honda Civic that just blazed past must have, for at least a handful of seconds, been a vessel of sniggers. Pressing the tip of my floorball stick against the metal button, I readjusted my stance in preparation for another arduous wait. The green man sure takes long breaks in between his shifts. I like to think that we are our own best doctors, as only we can diagnose emotional sicknesses in ourselves. Not all illnesses have to be physically debilitating, after all. It is possible to have runny sadness, for example, or projectile infuriation. Worse of all? Chronic insecurity coupled with a bad case of self-doubt. Based on my five seconds of self-analysis, that was definitely what I was suffering from.

The smell of rain has always been a favourite of mine, but the same cannot be said of thunder. I used to fear heaven’s rock concert, cowering beneath my blankets at the mere sight of lightning. As the number of candles on my birthday cakes grew, so has my love for thunderstorms. What was once an jarring, ominous refrain has become a soothing chorus. Whenever lightning strikes, I retreat into my room, where I’ll always have a good book and a cup of green tea for company. As I finally crossed the road to my flat, a thunderstorm was all that I was praying for. I could always use some quiet reflection time, but that Monday night called for it just a tinge more desperately.

This last week, I find myself smiling less and sleeping more. Whilst additional sleep is typically regarded as beneficial to your well-being, the same cannot be said when the shuteye is carried out during curricular hours. Finding the same innocent joy and excitement in going to school now seems impossible, much unlike the first weeks. As the wind of change dies down and the dust settles, it is up to me to sweep up the remnants and sort out my life. From the very beginning, I’ve had my reservations on many of my decisions regarding my post-secondary education. I won’t elaborate on them, but I can promise that I’ll make the best of what I have now, for better or for worse. I hope to rediscover the love I had for school, and I’m confident I will soon. Moods pass quickly, and hopefully the dark clouds that loom over my head will too. Light will come. I’m sure of it. Till then, here’s to a better week ahead.