I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how summer no longer seems to be exciting for me. At what point did the feeling of summer become dreadful to me? I used to spend my school days counting down and waiting for the days when I could sleep all day and be with my friends at night.

Now, these roles seem oddly reversed. When I think of summer, a feeling of dread washes over me. I think of going back to the place that I tried so hard to escape. It’s not like I hate my hometown, per se. In fact, there are many things that I admire about the more nonchalant lifestyle there, but something just doesn’t feel quite right.

It’s not my life anymore. It’s not who I am.

While I always felt slightly gawky and out of place in the sweet suburbia, it was always just manageable. I grew up with a deep sense of wanderlust, but I had accepted that as unsatisfiable. So, when I finally did get the chance to explore the world, I also explored every bit of myself.

Who I was before, growing up in my ranch style house, sharing backyards with a farm… that’s just not who I am anymore.

Do you ever drive through a town on vacation and wonder what sort of person lives there? Wonder what their daily life is like? That’s how it feels for me to go home now. I feel like a stranger among the walls of my old high school, at our old coffee shop hangout, at the diner I grew up eating at...

It all just feels so not right. Now that I’ve left, my hometown feels quite unmanageable. I feel more out of place than ever before. Summer suddenly seems like a task. It seems like I’ll have to put on a persona. In a way, it seems that I’ll be getting graded for my actions as I pretend to feel like I am a part of everything.

And being here, school, that is, means everything. Education no longer seems meaningless. Suddenly, I am studying things that I fill me with passion. My assignments are meant to give me opportunity by forcing me to go out into the real world and explore. Not only am I enjoying my classes, but I seek out opportunities for classes, lectures, and open discussions on topics that I never considered before.

The busyness of the New York City streets seems to be almost a part of me now. My blood pumps to the rhythm of the Brooklyn Bridge traffic. How can I go back to a world where the most traffic I see is when sometimes a chicken escapes from my backyard and the neighbors swerve to avoid hitting it (thanks for not running over my only friends, by the way).

Nothing seems quite right any more. Summer is meant to be carefree. Summer is meant to be filled with happiness; not a sense of unfulfillment. Something’s not quite adding up.

So, I guess I’m wondering… when did this change? When, exactly, did I become this whole new person who still hates the cold, but wishes winter would never end because she never wants to leave the walls of academia and the streets of an unforgiving city?