These smiles are the corroboration of years of learning while observing in the background.
When I entered university a few months ago, I was dreaming of new beginnings and beautiful opportunities. Soon, it turned out to be awful and the number of lonely days I already encountered in high school became prominent. With loneliness came anger and sadness, and a seemingly profound hatred towards university appeared. I had always loved studying, during the tough high school years it had been a huge part of what kept me going. Under such a new pressure, however, I felt disempowered. Skipping numerous hours of class this year was never intentional. I only wish they knew.
I wish they knew how hard mornings can be and how they can turn into despicable days. I wish they knew what it truly feels like to wake up one morning and feel like giving up, even when the night before has been incredibly warm and joyful. But they do not know. They have no idea what it is like to go to bed at night, feeling a growing hole in the heart, feeling sad and not being able to pinpoint what’s wrong. They don’t know how it is to fall asleep and wake up with that very same gloomy feeling of despair. I really wish they knew.
I wish that when I wrote this note explaining that I felt out of place at university, reading it on social media people, including my own siblings, would have taken my words for what they really were: some sort of cry for help. I did not intend to write a beautiful piece, all I wanted was to be honest. And yet, people merely read it as a quote of some length on melancholy.
I wish that when I tried to talk to my mother about attending a journalism school, rather than waiting two more years to get a Bachelor’s degree, she would have understood that I was not being whimsical. I just hate(d) university. This place contributes to my downfall. I wish that when I missed a few courses someone would’ve asked me if I was all right. I wish that people cared.
When I skip classes it is not out of laziness. I am losing my strength. As the academic year comes to an end, I feel exhausted. Three weeks seem unbearable. Last year, I had acquaintances to hold on to. Now, I have no one at all. It feels harsh, disempowering, insignificant. University has turned me into this ghostly person meandering around, going from point A to point B without bearing any goals in mind.
I am sorry I did not realize that a whole week had passed and I have not moved from my bed.
Those four bleak walls surrounding me, I wish they would break. They would fade away as if they never existed. It would never be dark again.
These two past years, having done plenty of introspective work on myself, I have come to realize something which would seem quite daunting to some but which actually is very honest. Having encountered some personal struggles with my family ever since my early years, I had always held on to an optimistic and cheerful stand. When I came to realize that there was a darkness in me, it didn’t make sense. I had always tried to look at the positive and turn down any kind of negative thoughts, even negative energy around me had an impact on me I despised..
On the other hand, I succeeded in being fully honest with myself and some people. Those plain yet harsh truths to speak although they did not go voiced out but written came to a certain light. And that was an accomplishment. Even though the hands I wish reached out to me did not, putting myself into such a spotlight was brave accordingly with all the fears I had kept inside about it. And deep down, I know that this does not revolve around university only.
More than being stuck, I feel as though I am a ticking time bomb. I have no idea when it’s going to go off. I can sense the ever-growing pressure inside of me. Bottling up one’s feelings and being overly in control, where is that ever going to end up? Somehow, I wish it would explode already because the carried weight is more despicable and distressing than the hypothetical blow-up itself. I am longing for that release. Mastering the art of controlling, I have become a ticking bomb. Someone unreasonably fearful of outcomes and yet yearning for the buttons to be pressed, for the bomb to explode. I am willing to stop hiding.
.We just never know when it’s going to go off. And those smiles are definitive proof why so many bombs go unnoticed.