In other news, graduated exactly 2 years ago today. More scared than I had ever been. It doesn't get easy, you have to work hard to move on and believe that there is more to life than your 4 year university experience. It has to be true since Toni Morrison said so, you think.

It's strange that the grief of being exiled from your place of awakening, unlearning and learning, love and growth is accompanied by a sense of betrayal. The world that you were a part of goes on, unfrazzled by your pleas to allow you to return.

You must let go of the comfort you held on to, the comfort that your prejudices will be questioned, that your mediocrity will be challenged, and that someone will help you become a better person. What if you become a Malala hater and see nothing wrong with it? What if you forget.

And forget you do. Your body, rather. Your forget what it felt like to have your voice shake before participating in class. Your forget the excitement at discovering an idea you had never encountered in your life. You forget the joy of rushing to a class you love.

You forget the nervousness before entering a professor's office. You forget how to wave your hands because you never encounter the same excitement again.

But the mind does remember. And you remember that there is comfort and guidance to be found in words. Whether those are whole books, or poems, or even social media posts. You remember that there are better worlds out there, you remember that nothing is as it seems, often.

And sometime later, the mind remembers the most important lesson of all. That there is no moving on, no growth, unless you confront yourself. Unless you look within and begin to know yourself. Unless you begin to tend to yourself.

It is difficult. It takes a while. More than a while. But you begin to see that the first task set out by all those who nurtured you is to find out who you truly are. This will probably keep you occupied for the rest of your life. I don't know.

I've just been out here floating for the past two years. So I don't know.

The thought that I might never go back to school, or more importantly, be a part of a community that I feel a part of chokes me. Its hard to swallow, breathe, etc. But perhaps these fears can be deferred for when I know who I am.

Till then, just here, lost and confused, and trying. Trying trying trying. Trying to do good, to myself and those around me.

If you're still here thanks for putting up with what would have been a diary entry had I been in the mood to write.