Hiiiiii it’s been a whileeee! I’m finally home and had a moment to just sit and reflect after what felt like a week-long mental marathon. I dah habis my first test (yay me!), though I’ve got another two waiting me next week, but for once, my brain isn’t doing backflips across five different tabs at the same time. I’ve been wanting to write something for so long, but every time I opened a draft, I’d just sit there like, “Ehhh maybe not, this sounds too random… sape jee kesah?” So into the drafts it went, along with my overthinking.
But this time? Oh, life really showed up with the content. Enough drama, plot twists, and emotional roller coasters to finally convince me to write it all out. So here I am, typing away, hoping I actually click ‘post’ this time and not just ghost my own blog again.
Last weekend was honestly one of the most exhausting-yet-somehow-fulfilling weekends I’ve had in a long time. It felt like everything decided to happen all at once, mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually… even my social battery was blinking red. I had Parlimen Mahasiswa, and at the exact same time, my club was running KPO which a program I’d been looking forward to and planning for ages. And of course… both had to fall on the same date. Because why not kan??
I was seriously torn. On one hand, Parlimen felt like something I had to commit to, and on the other, KPO was my little baby. In the end, I told them to go ahead without me. Not gonna lie, it wasn’t easy. Felt like choosing between two children (okay maybe that’s dramatic, but still). But sometimes, you just have to make the tough call and trust your team can handle things without you. And deep down, I was just hoping they wouldn’t throw a party celebrating my absence haha.
Attending Parlimen was… an experience. A full-on emotional cardio. People often assume I’m this super outgoing, confident person because of my roles. But the truth is, I’m actually introverted, just with an extroverted heart. Hahaha pelik, I know. Like, I love being around people, the buzz of a big crowd, the random conversations, the chaos of it all, but only if I’m not the one holding the mic or being called to “bahas.” I thrive in silence.
Throughout the sessions, I mostly sat quietly, people-watching (which I actually love, by the way), jotting down my thoughts on each motion that was debated and just soaking in the energy of the room. I didn’t speak up, not because I had nothing to say, but because I still haven’t unlocked the version of me who’s brave enough to stand and speak in front of a sea of people. Maybe one day hoho.
The ironic part? I actually had a lot to say. Like, when I got back to the homestay, I was this close to crying because I was dying to rant to everyone about what went down during the sessions. But since everything was confidential, I just had to sit there, quietly eating my food, telling them, “I ada banyak nak cerita tapi I tak boleh.” In the end, I just wrote everything in my Notes like a sad little diary entry. Haih… leadership, kan. Sometimes you have so much in your head, but nowhere to let it out.
What tested me the most though? The waiting. So. Much. Waiting. For VIPs, speeches, protocols. As someone who constantly feels like they’re in survival mode, it was hard to sit still knowing how much time was slipping by. I kept thinking, “Can we skip to the part where we actually talk about students?” But I guess this is part of learning how things work. I mean the slow, painfully formal part of leadership they don’t warn you about.
But despite everything, I genuinely loved meeting new people. Especially when I finally got to talk to other FSKM presidents, it opened my eyes. That’s when it hit me how little I actually know about the struggles students outside my circle face. I’ve always been so focused on my friends and my team that I forgot there’s a whole campus out there with different stories. That was a humbling moment for me. A reminder of why I took on this role in the first place.
Throughout Parlimen, I kept checking my phone for updates from my MTs. I missed them lol. I imagined all of them cooking and laughing and taking selfies while I sat in my baju formal waiting for another speaker. I kept wondering if they were doing okay without me or maybe even happier without me (haha kidding… kind of). By the time Parlimen ended around 4 something, the bus from Seremban only arrived close to 6.30. That wait made me more tired than the whole event, I swear. I was so restless. We arrived back at college around 7.30, and without even fully breathing, I packed and rushed straight to the KPO homestay.
And when I got there… it felt like coming home. They had already set up the BBQ, nasi goreng was ready, and everyone looked so happy. I stood there watching them for a bit, just soaking in the warmth of their bond. I love what they’ve built. The sense of family. The inside jokes. The comfort. I sounded like a proud mom, but truly, it filled my heart seeing how well they held the space even when I wasn’t there.
That night, it was finally my turn to speak as president. I missed the morning session (because life was lifing), so I treated the night slot like it was my TED Talk debut. I shared everything I had kept in which the hopes I had for us, the things I’ve learned the hard way, and what I think we can actually do better (without sounding like a walking quote board).
Then came the curhat session! Basically our group therapy, but with an official name. And honestly, people really opened up. They started sharing why they actually joined this club, what they’ve been struggling with, what they wished we did better. Some things stung a bit, but weirdly, I wasn’t offended at all. I kind of expected it… because let’s be real, I was clueless when I first started. Half the time I didn’t even believe I got this position in the first place. I walked away feeling less like “the president” and more like someone who’s growing with them, not just leading them.
I absolutely loved hearing everyone’s stories that night like genuinely sat there with my heart full and my face doing that awkward proud-mom smile. It turns out so many of us joined this club for the same reason: to break out of our little shy bubbles, to prove to ourselves that we can do scary things like speak up, take charge, or even just make new friends without overthinking every word.
Hearing that made me feel a little less weird for being a work-in-progress. Like maybe we’re all just quietly battling the same fears, and this club isn’t just a place for “leaders” but for becoming one, in our own time, in our own way. It felt like we’re all somewhere in the middle of becoming who we’re meant to be which awkward, brave, hopeful, and trying anyway.
The next morning, we went hiking at Kepayang Hills. Safe to say I was at the very back of the group the whole time, almost dying on the way up. But it was so worth it. Laughing, panting, making it to the top together, it felt like one of those movie moments. Shoutout to the guys who stayed behind to make sure all the girls reached the top safely. That kind of gentleness stays with you.
Just when I finally felt a bit relaxed and thought everything was going well, boom, something unexpected happened. The internet decided to humble me. Comments started rolling in. Some people didn’t like the way the trip or the homestay was portrayed online. Some said it looked inappropriate. And just like that, my heart dropped from Kepayang peak straight into a pit of “what did I do wrong?”
I wasn’t even directly approached, but as president, I felt it. The invisible weight. The silent disappointment. It wasn’t anger that hit me, it was that sharp sting of being misunderstood, of knowing your intentions were good, but they just didn’t land right. And so, I took responsibility. Quietly. Fully. Because that’s what leadership is too, kan? It’s not just about giving speeches or planning events, it’s also about standing still in the storm, owning up, and learning from it.
I told myself that maybe the feedback came from a place of care, even if it didn’t sound gentle. That maybe, people wanted us to do better. And if that’s the case, I want to be someone who listens even when it hurts.
After everything, the physical exhaustion, the emotional weight, the back-and-forth between responsibilities, and the quiet panic of upcoming tests… I feel… drained. Like someone took my battery out, gave it a quick rinse, and forgot to put it back in. But beneath that exhaustion, I also feel a little more grown. Like my brain did a stretch it wasn’t ready for but somehow made it through.
This weekend taught me a lot. Not just how to survive on limited sleep and way too much adrenaline, but how to handle emotions I usually try to ignore. I learned that crying isn’t a sign of weakness, it just means you’ve hit your emotional data limit for the day. I learned that not everyone will understand your intentions, and that’s okay. Leadership isn’t about being right all the time. It’s about listening, adjusting, and sometimes, just breathing through it.
Honestly, I’m still figuring it all out. I didn’t come out of this weekend as some enlightened version of myself who drinks green drink and has her whole life together. I’m just someone who tried. Who showed up. Who felt deeply and kept going anyway.
This first weekend of May wasn’t perfect. It was messy, overwhelming, and full of unexpected turns. But it gave me stories I’ll remember, and lessons I didn’t know I needed. So I’m writing it all down, not just to keep track of what happened, but to remember the girl who lived through it. The version of me who still smiled after crying. Who still led with kindness even when she was tired. Who still believed that this chaotic, unfiltered, and all is part of the journey.
And to whoever else is here, if your week was messy too, if you’re juggling more than anyone knows, if you’re tired in a way you can’t even explain, you’re not alone. I pun penat huhuu. Growth isn’t always pretty. Sometimes it looks like eye bags, unread messages, and small wins no one sees but you.
But we’re getting there, even though I’m still not ready for May, haha!
s o y a w r i t e s 