I have already written about the two significant things that happened in my life. When I was thinking about what's next, I was rather clueless. Nothing came to my mind. My brain has never felt this empty before. What should I say? I am in a "been there, done that, so I'm done with it now" era. I care so much about where I am investing my energy these days that I choose the comfort of my own bed over meeting anyone. Probably it is my age.
Lately, though, I keep seeing signs. The kind that poke you like, “Hey, remember who you were before life came in like a wrecking ball?” That girl who started a blog just to practice writing because she had dreams of publishing a novel one day? Yeah, her. While I am aware of the signs I'm seeing around me, nothing could have been as obvious as the one that happened recently. I had a small trip with my mother to Genting. While we were getting ready, she suddenly asked me when my novel was going to be done. I was shocked—more like choked—and could have died. This is a woman who’s met my best friend a grand total of maybe 5 to 7 times in the last 12 years and still calls her “that girl.” The fact that she remembers my lifelong dream? Suspicious. Almost supernatural.
Okay, dear God, you no longer have to hide—come out wherever you are now. Joke's over. My mum doesn’t even know how to spell my name. She doesn’t even know what I'm doing in KL. If anything, she thinks that I am jobless because sometimes she suggests I get a job at a place she knows. It is impossible that she remembers something I told her ages ago. In fact, it's been 7 years plus since I last talked about it. I forgot it myself. But suddenly, I remembered her. That girl who told her mum she wanted to be a novelist. She had a whole plan, too. Bachelor's Degree in Psychology at HELP University, Master's in Clinical Psychology at Queensland University, Australia, and continue my PhD—then probably release 2 to 3 novels by the age of 30. The current me is just shocked at how ambitious I used to be. Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or hug her.
At least I graduated with my Degree. Life truly doesn’t go how we usually want it to, uh? From loving psychology, I started getting trauma and sleepless nights. Especially anything regarding domestic violence or abuse kind of ruins me. Child abuse case studies? They broke me. I remember counting down the days to my final exam just so I could toss that textbook into the fire and never look back. I didn't expect to get this disturbed. I knew that I wouldn't survive Clinical Psychology with this state of mind, where I can get disturbed easily due to my personal trauma.
So I chose the path that I was passionate about: Social Media. I understood that with circumstances, preferences do change, and it is fine. If I stubbornly did Clinical Psychology because that's what I planned and I refused to change, then I would have suffered, and happiness would have stared at me from outside the window.
So yeah, plot twist—I didn’t end up saving the world through psychology or publishing three novels by 30. But hey, I’m still here, still writing, with better Wi-Fi, a healthier bank balance, and a more realistic version of ambition. Maybe the novel will come, maybe it won’t. But for now, I’ll keep chasing signs, dodging people, and choosing my bed over drama.
And honestly? Feels like a pretty good storyline so far.
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