Eighteen

When i was 5 years old, i always wondered what it was like to be 12 who could walk in to hospital patient room because they always bar minors from entering. For some reason, it makes sense and i won’t waste my time to complaining while still not seeing my loves one battling illnes. Just when i finally turned 12, it was something new to happened but over time, it became a normal — when i realized it wasn’t adult thing i thought it’d be great. Blame it all to little me. How about turning 18? Where we far more than just age to see the world is big moments and a real milestone, where we officially and legally viewed as an adult and have privileges we couldn’t relate to when we were kids, where we perceived that’s the ultimate time of us to shine, to live life like we used to talk about and all the things we didn’t have.

I incline to imagined the grand scheme of life, that is only good if its happened when i growing up because i was taught to dream rainbow and butterfly otherwise. Adults wouldn’t dare to tell us the truth of how terrible it was, and maybe because they want to keep our optimism towards our dreams and ideals or simply have nothing to do with that. No way in the world i was think that the mountain will be this full of steep potholes when getting older. Growing up is a complete opposite with your festival shining bright imagination back then. Look, life ain’t that easy.

It's barely noticeable when you're in the first step of adolescence. The world is still spinning around you because you fulfill it with hanging out with friends, going to a concert, laughing your lungs out while walking around, stressing yourself with so many tasks and deadlines but still being able to repeat the same jokes and celebrate your friend's birthday at the end of the day. It's barely noticeable until you finally come to see the actual scene, that graduated from high school, is not just about passed the general educational test or a glamorous prom night, a teary eye that say goodbye, or even grinning from ear to ear through the farewell party. It's much more than those things. It's watching your friends moving forward, it's walking separately from the one that have been comrade in arms, it's the feelings that appears to make you down sometimes, it's to realize not all the things would always go the way you "want", it's force yourself to face the true meaning of being alive.

On eighteen, i waited the whole seventeen just to got co-existing with desperate, disappointed, despondency, and more down circumstances than up. Neither i have prepared nor coached how to survive cause nobody is responsible with your own path but you do—in find a way of coping by yourself. On eighteen, i practicing self-hate—knowing that i was fell far behind my friends and doesn’t feel like i got a lot. I hate knowing i have to labour unceasingly to goals and my heart got dipped in jealousy, sometimes, constantly comparing myself again and again when i fully acknowledge it is an absolute wasting time. I once said i’m too afraid with abandonment. I withdraw because scared of how i’ll be captured in the mind of others when people have free will to view however they want to. And I feel constructively challenged with reality which God scripted me in this way i couldn’t get out of.

I love writing. I write to help myself identify the feelings i have—when i mostly feel confused about being unable to say what it was, to find out distraction, to become conscious. It is when i can spit out my thoughts that i buried all day long in mind. But it is also when i feel numb, when i feel guilty, when i’m too scared of facing the truth, and the other when that feels torturing. My best writing come from my grief. I’m not good at telling anyway so i write it down, instead of reaching out my friend and searching the all ears one, cause i was to naive to show myself to them that "i’m sad."

But there’s a time i quietly say thank you — even when we’re in a war with ourselves, we still able to do the littlest, listening to our favorite playlist, reminiscing good old days and it’s all feel like a fresh air to breathe. Although when in the state of feeling unfixable, we still smell the flowers blooming in terrace, and touch salt water and built shapes with beach sand. That day when you feeling like so many things appear solid and permanent and terrible, you still can decide to buy snacks you like the most just to get rest and feel something better. Yet we too often lose sight of the fact, even when we’re numbing, we will still remember and we’ve set foot the same road again over thousand times and returned home after staring to those lights burn bright the busy street. Even when at 2 am you woke up just to cry in the corner of your room, you still meet those friends—out during the day and smile broadly to them like nothing happened. You charge and then drain your energy knowing that you can recharge again later. We can still doing the same thing though when we feel nothing.

As time goes by, i came with conclusion that life is just a constant struggle to get ahead. I tried so hard accepting that none of thing is one click away. To say that feel alone is such a journey companion. To say that it’s okay to be associated ourselves with vulnerability because it doesn’t always mean that you are defeated or weak. I might not a wise for myself now, but the future me will gladly learn from what i’ve been through and ask how could i have done. Even when we have to worried ourselves in the middle of uncertainty, you’re slowly take a step to just moving forward. Those open wounds which still there deep in your soul will heal but will be replaced with a new one too and that’s okay. Just know that in the meantime you’re committed to doing better.

I don't regret growing up. I've been getting a lot of feelings in my every step. I still love to recall everything in the past even though i know we won't be back. When we were teenagers, the process of becoming an adult, we make memories, so many—that i almost vaguely remember it. I still remember all your stories and mine being created on the same line, when i felt blushed all the way home or mad that inconsistencies occurred. I still have the photos of us i ordered in polaroid style because we call it aesthetic and we didn't have tool to make as it's from real polaroid cameras. And I can still feeling the fatigue of my body during the event we've made, left behind in my past body.

I said i’m ready to take the next step and commit not to fill myself with fear, to maintain hope when i lose it. But i will not say i’m not crying again, because i will, and still. Maybe i’ll still screaming and tearing up like crazy and subconsciously said i would give up. Maybe i’ll still feel lost, feel low, feel like if i’m not enough, if i can’t hold it all. But that’s the meaning of being alive, it’s to feel something and that’s not always something relate to victories or what you consider to be good only. Growing up means you’re ready to feel all the feels. To repeating the same failure and struggling with just yourself. Seventeen to eighteen and eighteen going through—was something great to happened. I wrote this several days before turning 19 and can not wait to see the good and great things will find me in the future. Yes, i still dreamed about butterflies and rainbows they were taught me —it is a defense for me to continue living, to remain courageous yet in fact i know, the track will not always be smooth and easy to deal with. But that’s okay. And that’s okay.