The girl from school buildings, in her room, and the lady in her 20s

i. the girl from school buildings

How I miss the smell the stationeries in my bag. The school projects that I have been stressing with because of simultaneous deadlines, one after another. I remember the girl in the school buildings, inside the classroom—and the girl who always makes sure that she has to go home at time, because if she doesn’t, she knew that her life will end right there—that much. You could say that I was really diligent back then, very obedient. Not that it was a bad thing, but one thing I regret, I did not enjoy, nor live that much that version of me, the girl who goes to school.

I cannot blame her though; that’s her nature after all. Well, you could say, I was also the blame because I let myself be caged in those experiences. I was scared, and even until now—I am still a coward, worrywart, and a fearful person.
But, one thing I liked about the girl in school buildings, she takes studies seriously. The girl inside the classroom has only one goal: to finish school and graduate—because God knows how she hates studying. The girl in school buildings is a wallflower. Having survey forms to be answered by different classes were a challenge for her.

The girl in the school corridor has her eyeglasses on and earphones hanging in her ear. She loves music by the way. Until now, actually. The calm vibrato of bass, aggressive, deafening beat of drums, and rhythm of guitar still resonates hard with her brain and heartbeats. During that time, the passion she has for music was at peak. Senior high school is about to end and she’s extremely depressed because she has yet to know the college program she has to take—worrying, because she has this mindset of, the program you will take, would also reflect to the job you will have in the future—which was true, but not always the case. Isn’t she cute? Very ideal-driven.

One time, after a career path counseling session I had with the Guidance, I couldn’t hold back the tears in school corridor. The girl was walking and found herself crying. Thankfully, that was closing time, most students already had go home. There's not much students who saw me crying at the bench. I am worried about my future. The pressure of "everything must figured out". The constant anxiety of what will happen in the future if I don’t know what I want to be, and for the fact that my classmates knew what path should they take.
 
ii. the girl in her room
 

Pandemic came, the isolation that I love, consumed me. This time, there were ghost of anxieties and neurotic subjects around which left me on the edge of the cliff, wanting to end everything. There are the obsessive thoughts of freeing the pain, the compulsive actions to remove the chain all over my body, because of one of the majority factors, as always, the primary environment. Those negative thoughts strangling me like vines, I felt like I'm rooted in the same place, unable to move forward. Despite the solitude being nosy, I found serenity in this so-called isolation. The contrast existence of noise and stillness nearly made the lady insane, but she chose that insanity instead than the turbulent circumstances outside. There's the lurking madness inside her room which was much comfortable at least, than the rowdy voices apart from the four corners of bedroom. She chose the company of the quiet tears every night, than the hurtful words and roars in the conversations outside.

The girl in her room found it bearable reading her books, watching online series and that was the first for her to find solace in writing. The discovery of being able to write and express through words. The world is too loud for someone to listen, and she bleed through tear-stained worn-out papers to make the pain bearable—and it did—like someone’s warm hand was patting the fragments of her existence, comforting them. Writing makes her able to breathe, it makes the excruciating pain subside, even just a little bit.
 
iii. the lady in her 20s
 
The lady has already step in the world of 20s. The field my young version has always longed for. The state I yearned for, I was always chasing the line where teenage would end.  And now, she’s here already, ironically—now, I wish to  go-back to. To be a student, or child again. I always thought back then that being an adult must be much easier than being a student or a kid, but that’s not the case. It’s all in my head. Kids are ego-centric after all. A phase of endless existential crisis. Walking on the thin tight rope of having figured all the things out, but still in the scope of exploring—wandering if it’s fine to take things slow.

The world revolves around quickly these days, attention span shortening, luxury and expensive cost of living laid out all over the media— is it really fine to take things slow? I spent a decade and four in academic field, only to find myself suffering in much current shorter life of being an adult. It feels like raging in the war of hiking a seemingly never-ending tall mountain without warming or stretching up, leaving the body all-swelled up and covered in exhaustion till the next days. 

The lady in her 20s, stuck in a commoner place’s, corporate field and working as if she’s a slave. She's in dire thirst to hold on to her creative pursuits, even though the time always fall into favor of the everyday administrative work. The current commoner who’s trying to survive life, and trying her best to live despite the odds.

The kid in me thought that adulting finally means having control, but honestly—it’s the other way around. We have a lot of things beyond our control.

Wherever you are, things may not be better as you hoped, but I wish you know that you are doing better.
 
Sincerely yours, 
Janzzyy.