Voids Fill Up Differently - Students of IACT (top 10 novels of all time .txt) 📗

device onto the duvet on my bed, the phone bouncing amongst the comfort of the blankets. I leave the warmth of my bed and lean my hands on top of my knees, stretching the aches and pains in my shoulder that come from sleeping in a tightly curled position. I walk sluggishly into my bathroom, in hopes to wash away all the stress that came with the day.

 

As soon as the water touches the surface of my being, a sudden rush of river escapes my eyes. My body falls to the wet tiles, completely giving in to the emotions. All the pretence I had to put up with today, the mask of bravery, the armour of unbreakableness, wholly disappearing just with a snap of a finger. Buzz.. buzz.. “You don’t have to put on a brave face. You don’t have to lie about being fine. You don’t have to act like you are unbreakable, like nothing ever hurts your feelings. You’re only human at the end of the day.” I was exhausted. So exhausted. Tired of being myself-my ugly, unworthy, fat, pathetic self. Just once…I wish… just for once, where I don’t cry in the shower. I already do so many things wrong in life. But I’m not capable of doing something as simple as showering in peace?

 

To start of my usual, mundane, evening routine, I pour myself a hot cup of Milo and is then accompanied by the surroundings of my empty balcony. Ahead of me, holds the busy view of Kuala Lumpur. The sun is just starting its regime by setting. The traffic keeps pressing through in the most unrelenting way. The clouds roll by. I see ant-like pedestrians. Probably talking about how amazing their day went. And there I was, smiling behind my steaming cup of Milo as if I'm just excited as they are. But really, if I was being truly honest, I’d admit that nothing has felt different since I was 10.

 

Instead, everything feels blurry, muffled. I lost track of the days and the nights because instead of being individual sunrises and sunsets, it’s just another day of me feeling like I’m walking upstream against a raging current. Instead of fighting and it feeling like it’s a challenge, I’m giving in to the voices inside my head. I mean, no one has ever been there for me as these voices have, right? Buzz.. buzz.. “Never stop believing in yourself. Never lose faith in yourself. Never doubt your own potential.” I let out a sigh, as I swallow the remaining of my comfort, gripping the glass close to me and walk into my room. I may seem like a typical, average, depressive 19-year-old. And like many depressed teens, I hold a dark secret. No, I do not self-harm, not physically at least.

 

Continuing with my habitual drill, I grab my backpack, reaching my hands in to reach for my planner. Empty. “Maybe it’s in the other pocket,” I wonder. I open the back pocket hoping to find it there. Empty. A sudden rush of panic enveloped me as I stood up and paced around the room. Tangled thoughts running laps through my head as I try to make sense of it all. “Table,” I said to myself as I rushed towards my bedside table. I pull out the drawers, hoping to find it occupied. Empty. There was nothing in sight but the view of a wooden interior. Empty. I felt myself being paralysed with every second that went by. Empty. That’s exactly how I feel as realisation starts sinking into my very core, and I become fully aware that my planner was, indeed, missing. This might sound a little pathetic and weird even. Why would someone freak out over something as insignificant as a missing planner? Truth be told, that wasn’t just any planner. It was not where I penned down my to-do list. Nor was it for my grocery list or my task planner. It was technically where I harmed myself.

 

Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough. Being someone who has the pain tolerance as low as a coffin in a grave, I found alternative ways to inflict harm to myself instead of doing it physically. My planner wasn’t any usual planner. Its contents are the ongoing battle that goes on in my mind every single day. It’s the many times I’ve just laid in bed trying to avoid. It's the musings that accompany me as I sit on the bathroom floor watching the then lukewarm water draining beneath me where I wish for a second that I’d go down with it into some abyss where there are no problems outside of wondering where the end of the pipe will take me. It’s the reflection in the mirror that I, unfortunately, am obliged to come face to face with every day. It's the insults that go back and forth in the spaces between my ears. It’s the wishing that my face looked different, that my voice sounded different, that my entire personality was different. It’s the long list of flaws about myself that I cannot stop resenting. Now, the one way I found true release, was nowhere to be found. Buzz buzz “Everything may seem to be out of place, and everything may seem like it’s not working out, but you must remember that time is everything.”

 

In the midst of my internal meltdown, a soft knock found itself on my bedroom door, bringing me back to reality. From behind the wooden barrier, my housemate, Liza, calls out in an elegant tone. “Jane, Lilian and I are going out for dinner. You want anything?” She asked as I rejected politely. “Ah okay, have a good night,” she said delicately before the sound of her retreating steps echoed as she walked away. I found myself in the comfort of my bed as tears gushed like a wild river. How could I have let something so important and personal slip out of my sight? How could I have been so careless? Buzz.. buzz.. I felt a vibration as sighed. “Not right now,” I said to myself. “I can’t think of assignments right now, Joey.” I leaned towards my bed frame, uncovering my phone, all prepared to take in the flooding of assignment talk. I didn’t need my group mates hating me more than they already do. “Hope will return to you. Love will return to you. Your laugh will return to you. Your glow will return to you. Keep your head up :)” It was sent by the same person, along with 3 other messages.

 

Why can’t this person just stop? He must've known he got the wrong number since I stopped replying. My eager eyes scanned through all the messages thoroughly, letter by letter, piece by piece trying to make sense of the mind at the other end of the screen. Right then, I saw every tiny piece of a jigsaw puzzle slowly coming together, assembling immaculately in their own places, forming one complete visual. Just like that, it clicked. “No.. no no no no,” I whisper, as I suddenly find myself gasping for air as though I was being shoved underwater. This is not happening. Without a single warning, my body turns into a pressure cooker. Heat spreads from my heart to my limbs. Panic arose, knowing that as I lay here in sheer helplessness, this person is out there, reading my every word and emotion tied to ink and paper. This person has just made himself an intruder in my being. This person now knows every thought that my mind projects. This person now knows my biggest fears. My insecurities. My whole life. Running the frustrations out of my hair, I take a deep breath as I start phrasing words in my head. With my shaky hands barely brushing the keypads, I type, “Are you having my planner?” Buzz Buzz. “Tough times don't last, tough people do. Always remember that.” My blood boiled as soon as I laid eyes on the message. Who does this guy think he is? Is he taunting me? Instigating me? “Give me back my planner! You had no right to go through it! Who do you think you are?,” I reply. Like a pachyderm, this person is like large elephants invading my space, trampling on my right, and harming my privacy.

 

To make matters even worse, there was no hint of remorse or regret in his messages. 15 long minutes went by and my patience was already hanging on by a thread. No new messages. No new torments by this anonymous stranger. Nothing. “Helloo?,” I type hesitantly, as I hit send. 5 minutes go by and the deafening silence from my phone begins to instigate my anxious heart. My once comfortable bed has now turned into hard concrete due to the stress I'm feeling. I stood up and began pacing around the room once again, in hopes to somehow rush time. No message alert. Nothing. I pick up my phone, typing in another message. Maybe, if I was polite or sounded kind, the person would have a change of heart and respond to me. “Hi again, I hope you know how much my planner means to me. It would mean the world to me if you gave it back... I’d even give you a small token of appreciation. How does freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sound? Or would you just prefer cash? Please respond. Thank you.” And within just a few seconds, I felt my phone vibrating in the palm of my hand. “Have a goodnight, Jane. I hope you only dream the sweetest dreams.”

 

Just like that, 4 hours passed with only a goodnight message from the anonymous soul that has now seen the other, most vulnerable parts of me. It’s nearing 1:00 AM. I’m sleepy, but my body roots itself on my bedroom floor. I look at college work and writing assignments that I know I won’t be completing tonight. I feel tired, but I don’t sleep. I struggle to control this behaviour, but deep down I already know why I’m still sitting here, and I know that I won’t be able to change it. I’ve always found excuses to stay up late. As a kid, it was video games. Now it’s homework and paranoia over my lost planner being in the hands of another. I consciously oppose this behaviour, but my subconscious always wins in the end. I do what I do without a thought at this point…all for a simple reason. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of myself. When I lay there at night, in the dark, I can’t run from anything. There in the dark, I’m forced to think about all of the things that I’m able to avoid during the day. Nighttime is quiet. The city itself starts to slumber and the world itself comes to a halt.

 

 I struggle to find something, anything else to do instead of sleep. Looking at the blank paper in my hands where letters were already supposed to find its place, I realize I haven’t accomplished anything or done anything meaningful. Hours pass and all I do is kill time, all in the name of running. I can lay down, exhausted, and in a few moments be wide-awake. I try to fool my body by shutting my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I can’t find relaxation or sleep. All I can find is a raw, and unapologetically honest reflection of myself. And I don’t like what I see. My mind takes over. I try to fight back, but I feel like I’m a prisoner in my own head. But it’s my head. When it’s all said and done, I’m torturing myself. A familiar vibration brought me out of my thoughts. Buzz.. buzz.. “You may not like yourself right now but that’s OK. You’re beautiful the way you are. You don’t need to change a thing.” I set my phone back down, not bothering to reply. They weren’t going to reply to me even if