My Subconscious and I

You find yourself back in college. All you can think about is getting to class. Walking through the once unfamiliar corridors have become a routine. So routine that you're letting your subconscious guide your feet. Though trough other people's eyes you're not in a hurry, friends and strangers alike fail to grab your attention. That day your mind's working overtime. It has to, you haven't had a decent sleep for three days in a row, thanks to the mid term exams, and now you're 15 minutes late to class.

A minute passes, you found yourself standing outside your class. All of your classmates are inside. You can hear a man's voice, must be a guest lecturer because you can't recognize the voice. He already started a new topic. You take a deep breath then slowly turn the doorknob and entered. All the seats are occupied except for the ones in the back. You walked pass the lecturer and gave him an apologetic nod as he gave you an irritated look. You barely notice it as you walk through the aisle passing rows after rows of gazing eyes. You finally reach an empty seat, sit and take out some books from your bag while carefully securing your composure. The lecturer's voice bought you time for a silent sigh.

Seconds later, you let your eyes probe the room. There's the lecturer, scribbling something on the white board. Regression model or something. Your glasses failed you. You make a mental note to yourself: don't ever sit at the back of this class again. Jaded, you turn your attention to the classroom. Hey, where are the guys? No sign of them. They usually sit at the back, but today it's mobbed with some freshmen with Attention Deficit Disorders. You subdue yourself from poking the back of their heads. Instead, your eyes are fixed on a girl three rows in front of you. Whoa, major cutie. You never saw her before in class but you're damn glad you spot her just now.

After 15 minutes of gawking, a freshman passes you the attendance form. You take it and start looking for your name from the list. It's not on the first page. It's not on the second page either. Nor on the third page. What the heck? Then something awful hit your gut. But you're not sure about it, so you look around once more. Dear God, there's no one there that's even remotely familiar. Well, it's official then. You were late and now you're in the wrong class. You decided that this is the last time that you trust your subconscious. (Yeah, right...) Oh well, that's that. Resume gawking mode.


True story, happened last year.