Words by: Adlinda Paraya 
Art by: Yamca Go 

Academic writing is my primary background. However, I am now willing to share my 20 years of observations about life, crafted and cited from my perspective with an emotional approach.

First and foremost, this evolution began after I had shed my high school skin. I grew up as a reserved person — not too loud for a group of librarians, yet wildly not too quiet for those fluent in my series of silences. Whatever the situation in the outside world, I eagerly picked up a chalk and drew boundaries as thick as blood. I hid, even though nothing chased me. I left many doors closed. Many conversations were unfinished. Many explorations halted. Many words were left unspoken. Because I was afraid.

I could say I am too fluent in reading people. I warn you, do not be this way. This fluency is a double-edged sword. It leads me to overanalyse bits of everything, leaving me too cautious in my approach to living — the same feeling you get when walking on the edge of glass in someone else’s shoes. Yet the shoes are made of stone. It is daunting, isn’t it? I carry weights imagined by myself, with none of the benefits that lifting weights might bring.

The shed I made had its rude awakening. I romanticised a life outside my local shell and decided to park my nowhere-to-go car seven hours away from home. I took the street that showed no signs of good promises, yet here I am. I took the unprecedented chance. I hope you are proud — and yes, I am pointing at myself in the mirror while typing this. I let my mouth speak. I let my eyes stay wide open. I let my soft hands grasp every rare opportunity. To my surprise, what I received was a sense of relief. No, not even a tiny spit of chaos.

If you assume I am a brave person today, you are unconditionally wrong. I am still terrified — to face the beginning of an end and the end of delayed beginnings. To confront uncertainty, which, funnily enough, is certainly there. To make decisions after grieving every ‘bad’ past choice.

OM^[1]: Do people’s opinions matter?

M^[2]: Yes.

OM: Really?

NM^[3]: No.

It had always been about them, not me. God forbid, I almost lost the meaning of the word. 

In the winter of 2010, I took good care of life. In the summer of 2024, I am committed to taking good care of my life.

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^[1] Old me

^[2] Me

^[3] New me