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Opening a new chapter – messy, but let’s make the best of it

Opening new chapters in my life can be exhilarating, but a pang of grief and guilt hits me like nothing else.

Tears are building up in the corner of my eye, blurring my vision, sending a surge of pain.

The foreign faces on my laptop screen, their eyes darting all over, have never felt this terrifying.

My teenage life is coming to a close. Is my young adult life going to be spent on this tiny piece of technology? Really?

Resentment holds me in such a loose grip, as if I am the one clutching for a familiar feeling.

The feeling of the morning breeze as I sat in the canteen with my friends in the early morning, giggling over music, finishing our homework, before the voice of our principal booming in the corridors interrupted us.

The beating in my chest when I am called by a teacher to answer a question I have absolutely no clue about.

The smile on the teachers’ faces as they witnessed my seniors’ graduation.

The tears that parents shed for their children’s accomplishments, and the photos they take to mark those events.

I resent that I couldn’t have that same rush.

And never will.

The black robe. The hat. The smile on my parents’ and teachers’ faces.

I used to sleep in the night, excited for what the light could offer me, but recently, I haven’t been able to bear the light on my face as the sun rises.

I dream of the day I could show everyone who loves me that I could accomplish something.

Ten years of my life ended with just a piece of paper given to me in the vicinity of a drive-thru as if I just came to order takeaway food.

And just like that, a chapter in my life had closed in on itself and here comes the new one.

The next few months flew by, and suddenly I was visiting the campus of a university.

It all felt like the puzzle pieces were being put together again. It didn’t feel familiar, but it started feeling like it could be something.

Until I was faced with having to have my classes and resting time in the same room. Not just any room.

My bedroom.

It sounded so bearable, but the inability to distinguish when to relax and when to focus only continued to grow.

When I move to close my eyes to get some shut-eye, my brain is pierced with the urge to study.

“It may be 2am but that schoolwork isn’t gonna do itself.”

What happens then?

My eyes are constantly working to keep themselves open for fear of missing out on schoolwork while I know that I have already done the best I can, so I never really do anything.

I just stay up in the silence of the night.

Those moments are the ones that comfort me the most in this world we live in – a comfort borne out of a bad habit.

When I live in those silent moments, I don’t feel any discernible passion for anything. It’s merely entertaining for me to just sit and contemplate why this moment of silence was granted in a world that has spoken, even more as uncertainty was painted on more faces.

Eternalising my feelings about the pandemic that had been present for over a year in words always felt scary. The night, however, hadn’t asked me of such requests.

Continuing the chapter that had opened itself continues to daunt me to this day. However, with the safety of the silent streets and lack of expectations, it reminds me that though the world has changed, everything is still there.

The presence of my parents in the morning, the night calls I have with my friends. The person I am.

It is a trying time but with time and a little bit of patience, I realise everything is as it is.

The next chapter in my life is a mess so far, but it’s my mess.

At least I’m still alive, so I’ll make the best of it.

This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.

To give the younger generation an avenue to express themselves, Twentytwo13 now has a dedicated space called Young Voices. If you are a young writer (aged between 12 and 17) and would like to have your article published on our news website, send your contribution to editor@twentytwo13.my.

All articles must be accompanied by the young writer’s full name, MyKad number, contact number, and the mobile number of the young writer’s parents/guardians for verification purposes.