Before Joining University

I was waiting so badly to join university, high school had not been kind to me. It was not catastrophic, but it was deeply unpleasing. I did not feel at home there. I felt like I was passing through something I had to endure rather than something I could grow inside. I didn’t like it at all.

So when the time came to enter the University of Khartoum, I felt something close to relief. this was not just any university. It was the place. the University of Khartoum was the spot I loved the most in Sudan. It was where my inner child was shaped. I used to visit the campus when I was a kid with my older brothers. both of them studied engineering there. I remember walking through the buildings, feeling the weight of history in the walls, sensing something larger than myself.

It was the place where ambition felt real. where passion felt possible. in my imagination, university was freedom. It was growth, It was finally becoming.

But beneath all that enthusiasm, there was something else. an irritating fear. it is not about grades. not about difficulty. not about whether I was capable. the fear was about who I would become. and more specifically, what would happen between me and people.

The Question I Was Afraid to Name

What kind of person will I become in this new place, what kind of people will I meet? I had never stepped into such a big environment alone. high school felt controlled. familiar. predictable. University felt vast. open. unfiltered.

It was not the size of the campus that intimidated me. It was the social reality of it. four years, four years with the same people. these were not temporary classmates. not random strangers in a short course that I could disappear from. These were people who would likely stay in my life long after graduation.

And I was not sure I wanted that. that sounds strange to admit now. but at that time, I was not worried about failing academically. I was worried about failing socially, or worse, succeeding socially.

Because deep down, I was not sure I wanted people to know me.

Anime That Felt Like a Mirror

During the period between graduating high school and registering for university, my friend AbdAlwahab shared an anime series with me. he said the protagonist looked something like me.

I started watching it during that in between phase, not a student anymore, not yet a university student. the story was about a guy entering high school who actively tried to avoid making relationships. he had kind of super powers no one knew about. he wanted to keep them secret. he did not want attention. he did not want connection. his plan was simple: survive unnoticed.

It clicked immediately. that was me. not the superpowers, but the hiding.

The reluctance to open up, the instinct to build walls, the desire to pass through environments without revealing anything real.

Watching the show, I felt connected in a way I hadn’t before. It was the first time I saw a character whose behaviour mirrored mine. but then something happened. I stopped just enjoying the show.

I began treating it like prophecy.

A Strange Internal Contract

I started watching it with a hidden condition. If the protagonist managed to escape high school without anyone truly reaching him, without forming deep connections, then that would justify my plan.

It would mean my approach was valid. that surviving unseen was strength.

But if he failed, if he ended up connecting, caring, becoming part of the group then something else would happen. then I would fail. It sounds ridiculous when I say it now. seeing connection as failure. but at that time, it was not ridiculous to me.

It was logical. because connection brings things, that I have no capacity for. brings emotions that I can’t give.

So I wandered into university already calculating how to minimize interaction. not because I had social anxiety exactly. It wasn’t fear of talking. It wasn’t that I lacked personality. In fact, the opposite was true. I could talk. I could engage. I could fit in.

The real problem was deeper, I was not interested in people. or at least that’s what I told myself, the truth was more complicated.

it wasn’t that me and people didn’t get along. It was that I didn’t want to need them.

The Real Fear

Before university, I overthought many things, but not grades, not lectures, not academic competition.

What consumed my mind at night, when I was lying in bed, was this:, how am I going to avoid making friendships?

That was the real calculation, I remember mentally simulating scenarios, how to stay polite but distant, how to be friendly but unreachable, how to engage without committing.

I knew these people would be around for four years. this wasn’t a temporary phase. you can ghost someone after a short course. you cannot ghost an entire cohort for four years.

These were people who might stay for life. and that terrified me. because I did not have long term emotional commitment in my dictionary at that time. I did not know how to exist deeply with others without feeling like I was losing autonomy.

So instead of asking, “Who will my friends be?", I was asking, “How do I avoid having friends?", It’s almost funny now. but at that time, it was a serious internal problem.

Dodging the Inevitable

Looking back, I realize I was trying to dodge something inevitable, University is not just lectures and exams. It is proximity. shared stress. shared meals. shared jokes. shared failure. shared growth. It is very hard to stay invisible in that environment.

But I tried, in my head, I was constantly calculating, If I sit here, will someone talk to me? If I answer too much, will they approach me later? If I help someone once, will that create expectation?

It was exhausting, not because people were demanding. but because I was resisting something natural. I wasn’t afraid of being disliked. I was afraid of being known.

The Irony

The irony is that I loved the university itself deeply. the buildings. the atmosphere. the intellectual energy. It was the place where my passion had been shaped as a child walking beside my brothers.

And yet, in the very place I loved most, I was preparing to emotionally withdraw., there is something tragic in that contradiction.

Wanting the environment, fearing the people inside it.

Wanting growth. but fearing connection.