I don't feel Special anymore

The best way to cure a hangover is to pour yourself another drink. And to cure yourself of pouring drinks through the day, you need good friends.
I always wanted to come to Jodhpur to study Law, I was enticed by the fact that we would have individual rooms with balconies and 24X7 Internet. Needless to say I didn’t get in, I cried myself to sleep that night. Instead I went to Pune, and it turned out to be a great city, a fun college, smart kids, a different “me” away from home and I began to have a blast. Two of the best weeks of my life (until then) later I got into Jodhpur on the second list, I cried myself to sleep that night.
I landed up in Jodhpur, determined to make the best of it, if I was fun, smart and managed to make friends in Pune, I could do the same in Jodhpur. Except that I couldn’t. My new classmates were not as smart as the old ones, and I wasn’t as smart as my new classmates, I couldn’t follow what was happening in class, I couldn’t follow their conversations on the Basketball Court where they would gather every night en-masse, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t connect, I couldn’t do anything. I became my old drab, scary, studious and off-putting self.
Nothing was going right, I was in the wrong class (the other section was so much more “me”), on the wrong floor (the ground floor had the more interesting girls and conversations), on the wrong side of my corridor (Hakuna was all the way across at one end and I was at the other end) and on the wrong side of everyone. I was crying and complaining every night to my parents. I was trying to stay in touch with “the guy- the ex-future boyfriend” and “the girl- my Gureeji” from Pune and not handling that too well either. I was refusing to give my new college a chance.
But slowly, somewhere, things started to change, connections were made and deep friendships formed. There was the shy girl directly across my room, who I first saw through a haze of dust and parents, who introduced us to each other on the day we were moving into our rooms, there is the girl in the room next to me, I first saw her at the medical examination, giving a long list of allergies to the doctor, my competitive spirits were roused, I prodded my mother in the ribs and asked her if I could tell the doctor I was allergic to show-offs, She told me to shut up. Today I know I’m on the right floor, in the perfect corner closeted between my two bestest friends in the whole wide world. I am also allergic to dust as I found out very painfully in the third semester.
I remember the night I sat with Indiegurl out in the corridor, all night long talking and becoming friends. I remember the auto ride back to college where I was grilled by that shy quiet girl and we found out we could have been twins and should be friends.
Hakuna and I withdrew and shut ourselves into our rooms, shut ourselves out of the world, went emo, grew apart until each thought the other was a freak. Then last semester we came out of our rooms and realized we had spent the same life, thinking the same thing, just on the opposite sides of the corridor. Along the way we found a couple of other girls who were doing the same in their rooms. We now sit together and wonder why we never looked around us earlier, exchange angsty emo songs and dance to bad music while brooding over how we will never be understood by anyone else......... apart from ummm.... each other.
A friend and I went for a drive tonight, as were pulling into college, an old Hindi Song started playing on the radio. It brought back a flood of memories, the back seat of my car, my parents up front, my sisters beside me, Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar songs lulling me to sleep. The security of home and family. We pulled up to the front of my hostel, and I realized I had come home, to the security of my friends.