25%

After a five-month hiatus, I once again made the journey back to Singapore. This time, though, the road home was longer than usual. It began in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, with a U-Haul drive to Durham. From there, my friend and I set off (well, he drove—I was in the passenger seat; I still held only a learner’s permit) to Great Falls, Virginia, where we spent the night at a close friend’s home. The next day, we made our way to Marlboro, New Jersey, where I stayed with another friend. And finally, I boarded a plane bound for Singapore, with a stopover in Doha, Qatar.

The long journey home was deliberate—one made for the joy of the experience rather than convenience. I could have flown home a week ago, right after the school year ended. I miss my family deeply and can’t wait to see them. But part of me wasn’t quite ready to leave. I wanted a few more days with my friends at Duke before heading halfway across the world. This semester gave me so many reasons to miss the school—and the people who make it feel like home.

First semester was an amazing time; finding my feet and getting used to Duke was exciting (you can read about this in my earlier blog post, 12.5%). But ending that semester was also a little nerve-wracking. There was a lingering tension in the back of my mind—an unspoken question of how I would handle the academic challenges ahead. Everyone says college gets harder each semester, and while I’ve only finished my first year, that thought quietly followed me throughout.

Once again, this semester brought its fair share of academic challenges. My engineering curriculum began to intensify, with physics, math, and biology now on my plate. These classes were tough—and at times, it felt like no amount of studying could guarantee a good grade. Studying alone, which had worked well in high school, no longer felt sustainable. Concepts, especially in math, were harder to grasp on my own. YouTube videos and lectures offered some help, but rarely the full picture. Much of the learning came down to personal initiative, and it quickly became clear that you couldn’t rely solely on professors to make things easier.

That’s when I started to understand the value of studying with friends—something I hadn’t done much before. I was lucky to find people who were not only smarter than me, like my friend from Virginia, but also generous with their time and knowledge. They walked me through difficult topics, and I tried to offer the same support in return. Over time, that mutual reliance turned into a real sense of community. The more we helped each other, the more manageable classes became. Learning no longer felt like something I had to do alone. The generosity of those around me helped me come to terms with Duke’s difficulty—and made the challenge feel worth it. This culture is not something I think you can find at every university. 

Looking back, that shift—from studying in isolation to learning alongside others—was one of the most important changes this semester. It wasn’t just about academics; it reshaped how I approached challenges, and how I connected with the people around me. 

At the same time, moments like studying with friends also grow to become fleeting. With just 25% of college behind me, it already feels like time is moving too fast. It’s strange how something so vibrant and consuming can, in the blink of an eye, start to feel temporary. College is a fascinating paradox. It’s everything you hoped for—intellectually rich, socially vibrant, full of awe-inspiring moments. And yet, it slips away even as you’re living it. The very thing you want to hold onto most moves the fastest.

As I’ve settled into Duke, I’ve come to see college not just as a place of learning, but as a transition—carefully structured, subtly shifting. The early sense of freedom gives way to packed schedules and growing responsibilities. Seniors often say that freshman and sophomore years are your only “true” college years—when you’re fully present, on campus, and surrounded by community. Junior year often means going abroad, and by senior year, you’re already looking back.

Then comes the search for internships, careers, purpose. Life starts to feel more real, more adult. You scroll LinkedIn a little more seriously, network with more intent. It’s what college is meant to prepare us for—but it brings a quiet sense of loss. A loss of openness, of freedom, of the illusion that time is abundant.

I know this is part of growing up, but that doesn’t make it easier. Sometimes I wish I could pause—not forever, just long enough to soak in the moment without thinking about what’s next. To sit with the people who’ve made this place feel like home and simply be. There’s beauty in this phase of life—but also a kind of ache. You want to keep moving forward, but part of you just wants to stay.

That desire to stay comes from the people and moments that defined my second semester. These past six months brought experiences I couldn’t have predicted a year ago, as well as lessons I will carry forward. 

One of the most meaningful realizations this year was how, in college, people find you. Your time is your own—you’re no longer bound by your parents’ choices or your childhood routines. You decide who to surround yourself with every single day. While many of my first-semester friends remain some of my closest, I had the privilege of meeting even more this semester—friends with whom I could be myself.

There was a freedom in those friendships: the ease of asking for advice about even the most ridiculous things, knowing I wouldn’t be judged. And that ease went both ways. These were people who came to me when they needed help too—a quiet but powerful sign of mutual trust. That kind of connection is what made this semester so hard to say goodbye to. And nowhere embodied these connections more than the unlikely social hub where most of them flourished: our freshman dining hall—Marketplace.

It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to Marketplace. Every evening, I walked in planning to stay for no more than 20 minutes. The food was decent, but nothing worth lingering over. Yet more often than not, those quick meals turned into two-hour conversations. Laughter and stories spilled across booths and tables. You’d run into someone on your way to grab food and end up chatting for 15 minutes, completely forgetting where you were headed. My friends and I would cram eight people into a booth built for four, dragging over extra chairs until our table turned into a loud, lopsided circle of conversation. We would talk about all sorts of topics, from how my friend on the rugby team managed to finish his calculus problem set while concussed, to an anticipated “Remontada”, to the success of our basketball team throughout the year. 

It didn’t matter that the dining hall was often messy—trash on the floor, fluttering napkins, the occasional food stain. And it didn’t matter that the food wasn’t anything special. What mattered was the company. Marketplace was never about comfort or cuisine—it was about presence. Being around people, whether close friends or familiar faces. Some of my favorite dinners were spent next to people I barely knew, because the openness of it all made those moments meaningful. That’s something I’ve come to value about Duke: people here genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Marketplace harnessed that spirit. And despite all its shortcomings, I’ll miss it dearly.

This semester also meant saying goodbye to a lot of people—goodbyes that, in many cases, carried a sense of permanence. First semester ends with the comfort of knowing there’s more to come. But the end of second semester feels different. It marks not just the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a transition.

My friends and I were lucky to grow close to a few seniors—relationships we hadn’t expected but were incredibly grateful for. They shared their wisdom, looked out for us, and offered guidance when we needed it. They told stories of their time at Duke, gave honest advice, and helped us navigate tough decisions.

They were also some of the funniest people to be around. Most had already secured jobs and were simply enjoying their final stretch of college. And as freshmen, we still had distance from the “real world” too—living in this pocket of time where life felt suspended, full of possibility but not yet urgency. That shared calm created space for unforgettable moments. Some of my best memories this semester came from the time we spent together.

But saying goodbye to them was hard. I know I might not see many of them for a long time. Maybe we’ll cross paths in the same city someday, but it won’t be the same as the late-night conversations or spontaneous run-ins on campus. These goodbyes felt real—and they’ll only grow more frequent as time moves on. That’s a tough truth to sit with.

Still, there’s so much to look forward to. New faces to meet, new experiences to chase, and memories still waiting to be made. I’m heading into sophomore year with a fuller heart and a deeper appreciation for just how fleeting and meaningful this time is. August will come quickly—and when it does, I’ll be ready to dive back in, grateful for what’s passed and excited for what’s next.