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So, I had a bad day today. One of those days that you just don’t know what’s wrong, or rather, you know that’s a complete lie, but you try really really hard to convince yourself it doesn’t bother you. Anyone that knows me can tell you that this is rare for me. I’m pretty upbeat all the time—obnoxiously so if you happen to ask a certain few. Even still, these days happen to everyone. I came home to my apartment after work, hours of studying ahead, and a stressful week looming with papers and tests and lots of reading, not knowing what to do to shake this “blah.”

So I took a walk. I walked down Broadway a little ways, past the loud construction (it’ll be over soon!), past the cars filled with people frustrated with traffic and just wanting to get home. Home. That’s what I was missing. Someone who can tell when I’m wearing myself thin. Someone to tell me, “Amanda. Take a nap. Take an hour to do nothing school related and chill OUT.” Don’t get me wrong. Living by myself has been good; it has already improved my focus, and yet, there I was walking, searching for some solace. I turned by the Beck Center and walked through campus and somehow ended up in Haupt Plaza surrounded by empty buildings, advertisements for clubs flapping away on the bulletin board, and a breeze getting chillier by the minute. Classes had been over for a while, so I just sat there alone for a couple minutes to gather myself. When I got up to leave, I saw someone walking back from the parking lot behind our Fine Arts building. I didn’t know them, but I said “Hi! How are you?” just like most people always do at Transy. That’s when something funny happened. This person that I didn’t know—and still don’t—avoided the obvious response of “good” and gave me an honest answer. The conversation went something like this:

“Overwhelmed. I’m always running. I don’t know how to stop sometimes.”

“I know exactly how you feel.”

“It’s hard when you care so much.”

“Exactly! Good luck with everything.”

“You too.”

It was as simple as that, but as I walked back to my apartment, I thought, “My God! I am home.” I know I’ve said it before in passing, “Transy is my home.” And I know it’s an abstraction—even more so now that I’m about to be leaving in another couple of years. I just can’t help but to feel like I’ve found something more than a college here. I’ve found a community where all members are bound by passion, by involvement, but more importantly by an ability to recognize this connection they have with every other member, and maybe just maybe by the ability to unknowingly reverse a stranger’s bad day by being completely honest and letting her know she is never alone here. Ever.