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I am turning 18 in less than six weeks. It’s kind of funny that I have finished school eventually. I did not see the unexpected ahead was coming when I went back to school earlier this year. All I knew I was going to graduate from high school and get over it. Time passed like endless winds, and soon the day came, I thought I was already over it. But then I realise I am still not over it. And that is that. I am not ready for this. I am not ready for 2016.

Turning 18 does not mean you have the actual freedom by law to look for anything you want. Turning 18 means you are going to drive into adulthood, seeing deeper truths about reality that you did not learn in school. Turning 18 means you have to decide something that puts you anchored for the rest of your life.  It’s scary, I think. Why should I be celebrating something I’m terrified of? Something that I’m not even prepared for?

To the hell with the age. I’m just going to cherish for all the things I have done throughout this year as a seventeen-year-old student. There’s nothing more than being grateful for all the things we do in a year than to spend our last days in school. I’m grateful for having to spend my last days of school with people I devotedly care. I’m grateful to break the school rules without having any second thoughts crossing my mind. I’m grateful for flunking out my exam papers, not just once but for multiple times. I’m grateful for every turnout of uncomfortable, uncontrollable choices I decided to take, all at once. Because I believe; by cherishing them, to repeat the same faults; the faults that keep me going downhill, that leave me from growing, is by all means showing me that I’m living a life that I don’t understand. It is the life we are talking about. It is the life that is too short to make the same errors. By 18, I will be wiser. This time, less lonely and smarter. I will constantly remind myself that human errors are not the flaws of living but it is the indifference of an individual who inclines to repeat their same mistakes. If it weren’t the people I cared, I would still live in ignorance of love, embracing self-hate. If it weren’t the rebellious nature of me, I would have missed out the unexpected aftermath that brought me into happy accidents. If it weren’t the pathetic grades, I would necessarily repeat the same fault when I faced more difficult tasks in the future. The feelings are mixed – temporary regrets, unexplained angsts, morose, loved. And these things don’t go alone as human emotions, but they go with lessons, wider views, deeper insights into life, and brand new hopes.

You get them. You learn from them. And then you persist.

 

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Choices

To adjust the darkness that inevitably finds us at the most sudden incident is to destroy oneself. Because you can never be prepared for it. It comes out nowhere, breaks you on the inside severely, and waits for you to embrace the damage. You think you can survive, but are you sure you will ride out of the storm untouched?

The signs, the gestures, the decisions made – all these things we take no notice about have always been the things we will regret at the end of the day. This explains why people are becoming more vulnerable, particularly in the loss of someone we care, considering the ache from it remains unfaded. What we’re always overlooked for is that people are blinded by the darkness itself to a degree they are barely able to notice any presence of light. But this is only because they choose not to see it. What I’m learning here is that it is by choice in the long run. You can stay in the dark forever but it is only because you choose to stay there. But here’s the thing: at the end of the day, we will find ourselves constantly changing, through all the storms, we are constantly breaking, without a break. Coming out of the dark will change the way we see things in life regardless of how insignificant the dark is and thus, if we keep staying in the same place; dwelling on the things we should have not missed, all the what ifs, and what could have been, it just simply means we try to abstain from carrying on. Are we really living by then?

“It gets better, trust me.” That’s it. If I could write myself a letter years ago, I would indubitably write that. The light is made to be noticed after all.