Alone Among Many
My eyes remained fixed on the clock’s moving hands.
The clock hung just a little below the ceiling, directly above the whiteboard at the centre of the front wall.
Its old wooden frame had faded with age, though the glass covering its face remained strangely clear beneath the cold fluorescent light.
The second hand moved.
One second.
Then another.
Each passed in silence.
Seven...
Six...
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
The college bell rang.
The sweetest sound of the entire day reached my ears.
After hours of lectures, monotonous explanations, and the suffocating stillness of the classroom, the bell felt almost like a declaration of freedom.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the chair.
Slowly, I opened my mouth and released a deep breath, allowing the exhaustion that had settled into my body throughout the day to finally surface.
For the first time in hours, I allowed myself to relax.
The stiffness that had settled across my shoulders gradually loosened, and a gentle wave of relief travelled through my body.
It was as though I had been carrying the weight of the entire day on my back, and someone had finally lifted it away.
I remained there for a moment, my eyes closed, simply enjoying the silence inside my own head.
I simply sat there.
Around me, the classroom had already begun to come alive.
Chairs scraped against the floor.
Books slammed shut.
Voices rose from every corner of the classroom as students hurried to gather their belongings.
But I remained still.
Just for another few seconds.
Then I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was a group of students disappearing through the doorway, their voices fading as they moved down the corridor.
I looked around.
The classroom was empty now.
Completely empty.
No one was waiting for me.
I hadn’t expected anyone to.
Still, a bittersweet smile touched my lips as I lowered my gaze towards the floor.
My fingers began to twist restlessly around one another. I didn’t know why I was doing it.
Perhaps I was simply uncomfortable with the thoughts that had begun to surface now that there was no one around to distract me.
I looked towards the doorway again.
Empty.
For a moment, I imagined someone standing there.
Someone who would glance back into the classroom and call my name.
Someone who would wait.
The thought lingered longer than it should have.
Maybe, somewhere deep inside, I had been hoping that someone would stop.
Someone would wait for me.
And perhaps that was the part that I didn’t want to admit to myself.
Because I had a reason.
I wanted to make friends.
I wanted to have someone whose company I could lose hours in without noticing the time.
Someone I could talk to about meaningless things.
Someone I could laugh with.
Someone I could trust.
But whenever I found myself getting close to someone, that desire would quietly retreat.
It was strange.
I could watch two best friends sitting together one day, laughing over something completely meaningless, and feel a strange ache in my chest.
Then, the next day, I could watch those same two people tearing each other apart over something equally meaningless.
And the thought would return.
What if it happens to me too?
What if I became attached to someone, only to lose them?
What if I gave someone a place in my heart, only to watch them walk away from it?
Perhaps that was why I had always kept people at a distance.
Not because I didn’t want anyone.
But because I was afraid of losing someone once I finally had them.
I lowered my eyes to my hands.
Maybe loneliness was easier than loss.
At least, that was what I had always told myself.
I exhaled deeply, trying to push those useless thoughts away.
But that was never easy for me.
I had always had a sensitive heart and an overthinking mind—a combination that could turn the smallest thought into something impossible to escape.
I stood up from my chair and looked around the classroom once more.
The empty desks.
The abandoned chairs.
The whiteboard still covered with the remnants of the day’s lecture.
The clock continuing its indifferent movement above it all.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
And once again, the painful realization settled over me.
I was alone.
Completely alone.
After another moment, I picked up my bag from the chair, slung it over my shoulder, and walked towards the door.
I stepped out of the classroom.
The corridor was silent.
Empty.
Not a single voice echoed through the long passage.
Outside, the weather was clear. The afternoon sun hung high above the college building, bathing the walls and windows in pale, golden light.
Yet, despite the warmth of the sunlight, there was something strangely cold about the breeze.
I stood there for a moment, feeling it brush against my face.
The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves as they swayed beneath the wind.
Nothing else.
No laughter.
No footsteps.
No distant conversations.
Just the wind moving through the trees.
And, somehow, the silence felt different now.
I couldn’t explain why.
I rubbed my eyes with both hands before turning towards the staircase.
My classroom was on the third floor of the college building.
And honestly, this was probably the worst part of my daily routine.
Every morning, I had to climb more than fifty stairs just to reach my classroom.
Fifty.
More.
Stairs.
Just to sit in a chair for hours and listen to lectures that seemed determined to drain whatever energy I had left.
And then, at the end of the day, I had to climb down all of them again.
I stared at the staircase.
For a moment, I seriously considered whether education was worth this much suffering.
Then I sighed and began walking down.
After a while, I reached the second floor.
It wasn’t empty.
A few students were still walking through the corridor.
Some moved in pairs, talking and laughing among themselves.
Others walked alone, just like me.
I slowed down for a moment.
My eyes wandered from one group to another.
There was something strangely comforting about seeing people together.
And, at the same time, something painful about seeing myself among those who walked alone.
I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and continued down the stairs.
When I finally reached the ground floor, the atmosphere changed completely.
The college was alive.
Students moved in every direction, filling the corridors and open spaces.
Some were laughing.
Some were talking.
Others stood in small groups, exchanging gossip about their classmates, teachers, assignments, and everything else that seemed important to them at that moment.
Footsteps echoed across the floor.
Laughter rose and fell from different corners.
Conversations overlapped until individual words became almost impossible to distinguish.
There was noise everywhere.
Life everywhere.
Everything that made a college feel like a college was there.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching it all.
Hundreds of students surrounded me.
And yet, deep inside, I felt completely alone.
