I remember being asked the question “Who am I?” during an interview. You know, one of those moments where you’re expected to say something deep and insightful, as if you’ve spent your whole life preparing for that one question. I sat there, smiling awkwardly, all while internally panicking. It wasn’t that I didn’t know who I was, of course, I knew. The real challenge was figuring out which version of “me” to talk about.
You see, I’ve come to realise that I’m a bit of a chameleon. I’m different depending on who I’m with. There’s the “me” that shows up with friends, cracking jokes and acting like life is great, even when I’m probably one minor inconvenience away from a meltdown. Then, there’s the “me” that my family sees: responsible, reliable, always ready to help, and secretly hoping they don’t ask me to do the laundries. And then there’s the “me” I am with strangers, polite, reserved, playing the role of the person who never seems to mind anything. But what really stumped me was trying to figure out which one of these “me’s” was the real me.
The funny thing is, once I realised this, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much time we spend trying to be a version of ourselves that other people expect us to be. We adapt, we mould ourselves into whatever shape fits the situation. It’s like we’re all secretly actors, performing different roles depending on who’s watching. But the truth is, the best version of us is the one that comes out when no one is. It’s the version that doesn’t care about expectations, the one that’s just for us.
But when that question came up, the version of myself I wanted to talk about wasn’t any of those. Why? Because the version of me I like the most doesn’t show up around other people. It’s the “me” that comes out when no one’s around—the me that isn’t trying to impress anyone, isn’t pretending to be anything. The me that is absolutely, unapologetically me. That version that sits there, sometimes for hours, just talking to myself. Yep, I said it. I talk to myself. A lot. I’m not even sure why I do it, sometimes I’m not even saying anything particularly profound. I’m just… there, in conversation with myself.
At first, I thought it was a bit odd, spending so much time in these one-sided conversations. But then I realised, that’s the real me. The one that isn’t trying to fit into anyone’s expectations or manage other people’s emotions. The one that doesn’t feel the need to be funny or responsible or polite. It’s just me, rambling to myself about everything and nothing.
Honestly, it’s quite therapeutic. I don’t need to worry about anyone interrupting me or rolling their eyes. I can ask myself deep questions like, “Why am I like this?” and then just laugh because I don’t have an answer. Sometimes, I’m not even doing anything productive, just sitting there, contemplating life, or wondering if I should really have that third snack of the day. I used to think it was strange, the way I could talk to myself for so long without even realising it. But now, I think it’s the most honest version of me. It’s just me, being myself, no filter, no need to act a certain way.
In that interview, I struggled to explain that this version of me, the one that exists in solitude is my favourite. It’s the most real. There’s no audience, no expectations. The me that doesn’t have to pretend. The me that’s perfectly happy sitting around, doing nothing, chatting with myself, and occasionally getting existential over a cup of tea.
If I were to answer that question now, I’d say that the version of me I love most is the one no one ever sees. The me that spends hours talking to myself, not for entertainment, but because it’s comforting. It’s the version that’s free from judgement, free from pressure, and it’s where I find the most peace.
Because at the end of the day, we all play different roles depending on who’s around. But the truest version of me? That’s the one that comes out when no one is watching. I’m alone, talking to myself, and realising that maybe, just maybe, I’m my own favourite audience.
I guess I had the simplest birthday ever. Yesterday, I had a simple meal of kuetiau goreng with abang before heading to uni. Mama made nasi kerabu for lunch, and for some reason, it tasted better than usual, there was something about it that just hit differently, like every bite was extra special and unbelievably sedap. It was nothing fancy, just a quiet moment in the midst of everything. Ibu wished me happy birthday from her hospital bed, and I can’t explain how much that meant. Please, if you’re reading this, pray for her. I know I’ve asked for this a lot, but I’m really hoping someone’s doa will be granted. This time, it’s hard to hide just how sad I am about my birthday. For the first time, I let it sink in. Sometimes, I’m scared of growing up because growing up feels like losing more people or things. Can I just stay 17 forever?
Today, honestly, felt like a really sad birthday. I woke up to messages from close friends on iMessage, which was sweet. I spent most of the day in bed, just reflecting on everything. A few close friends sent me paragraphs, heartfelt ones, and those messages carried me through the morning. By noon, Far and Nadiea came by with slices of cake, and for a moment, things felt a little lighter. We sat, we talked, and I realised just how much these little moments matter.
After Far and Nadiea, Qis, Ecah, and Iffah showed up, and honestly, they just made my day even better. They brought me small pancakes and even bought me Mixue. It’s funny how something so simple can lift your mood entirely. What made it even more special was that all of them actually sang me a birthday song. I didn’t expect any of this, and the fact that they went out of their way to do something so sweet, well, it just hit differently.
There’s something about being celebrated in small ways by the people you care about. It’s not the cakes or the Mixue, though those were great, but more about the thought behind it. It’s like they knew I needed a little extra love today, and that’s exactly what they gave me. It was nothing extravagant, just cakes, pancakes, ice cream, and a song, but it was everything I needed.
I guess birthdays aren’t about big parties or extravagant plans. I should be happy with a celebration like this which small, intimate, surrounded by people who truly care. And I am happy. I really am. It’s just that sometimes, happiness comes with layers of other emotions too, and that’s okay.
Being 19 isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Lately, I’ve started to see things differently, noticing how many opportunities slipped through my fingers not because I wasn’t capable, but maybe because this is just how it’s meant to be. I’m realising that trying to juggle everything at once can be overwhelming, and maybe I’m not built for that right now.
October really has a way of bringing out my softer side. I don’t know why, but it feels like all my emotions are heightened this month. I’m sad, and I cry. I’m happy, and I cry. It’s been like navigating an emotional rollercoaster, and honestly, it hasn’t been easy far from it. There have been so many breakdowns, days where I’m too afraid to admit what’s really going on inside my head.
Sometimes, the only way I can make sense of things is by writing about them. But even then, I hold so much back, filtering my emotions because it feels safer that way. The truth is, people don’t see me fully, not really. I write here, pouring out my thoughts, knowing that the people closest to me might never truly understand how I feel. It’s a strange contradiction, isn’t it? It’s almost like saying, “I’m not okay, but you’ll only know if you read my blog!”
In the end, what I need most from my 19-year-old self is to stay strong, to hold on through the ups and downs, and to stop being so hard on herself. I want her to embrace life, the messy, unpredictable parts of it and understand that it’s okay to stumble, to cry, to feel a little lost sometimes. She doesn’t have to have everything figured out right now. This is her time to learn, to grow, and to give herself the grace to make mistakes along the way. There’s so much more ahead, and she deserves to navigate it with a little more kindness toward herself.
So, that’s my not-so-little rant about my birthday. I’ve decided to give myself a few months to regain my full potential. Thanks for sticking around. And if you liked this, feel free to check out my other blogs. Oh, and remember don’t struggle in silence. Even if you feel like no one’s listening, someone will listen. And if all else fails, you’ve always got me… and this blog.
So, funny story. I’ve been on this weird, endless cycle of trying to deactivate all my social media accounts. Like, I don’t even know why anymore. One day I wake up feeling like the world is just too much, and the next thing I know, I’m hovering over that deactivate button like it’s my life’s mission. Overwhelmed? Check. Feeling left out? Double check. Insecure? Oh, we’re hitting a home run with that one. It’s a sad truth that hits me right in the feels every time.
This whole thing isn’t exactly new for me, though. Since high school, whenever life starts to feel like a chaotic mess, I’ve found myself clicking that deactivate button. Poof! Gone. And to be honest, I’m not even what you’d call a “social media person.” I’m more like that friend who lurks in the background, occasionally liking stories or posts but not really joining in on the fun. But I’m genuinely happy seeing my friends post about their achievements and all the wonderful things happening in their lives. But here’s where the plot thickens, I sometimes feel like I have nothing worth sharing.
Is it just me, or do all my small wins feel like they don’t count? I mean, where’s my “I baked something today and didn’t burn it to a crisp, even though it’s the same thing I always bake” post? Is that an achievement? Should I be sharing that?! Then there’s the inevitable moment when I start overthinking about my followers. I’m constantly worried that I’m being annoying by over-updating on social media. And honestly, I can’t stress enough how there are a few people I just can’t bring myself to remove from the followers list. Why? Who knows! I mean, I’m totally fine with them being there, but a part of me keeps wondering if I really want them seeing all my random updates. Urgh, I know, I’m so complicated. Haha.
Anyway, back to the topic before I start spiraling. Every time I deactivate, I forget one major downside: I lose all the memories I should have saved there. It’s like waking up from few months nap and realising you’ve missed everything. Then I’m scrolling through my archive (because that’s where I go when life feels a little “meh”), only to find out that I haven’t uploaded a story in months. MONTHS. And what’s worse? I forgot everything that happened during those times! Like, what did I even do? Where’s that cute story my friend made of me? What were all those moments I wanted to look back on and laugh about?
It’s honestly tragic. I thought I was mature enough to outgrow this whole deactivate-reactivate cycle, but here I am, still in it. Maybe I don’t need to hit that button every time I feel a little overwhelmed like it’s some magical solution to all my problems. Maybe. Just maybe. I can learn to manage these feelings without running away. It’s okay if I’m not feeling great; I don’t have to open the app. It’s literally up to me. Why am I making life so complicated? I need to stop being so hard on myself and figure out how to live with all the feelings instead of always trying to escape them. I mean, seriously, how long am I going to keep doing this deactivate-reactivate dance? It’s exhausting, and honestly, I’m tired of it.
So, the past few weeks, I’ve been trying something new. Instead of vanishing from the internet, I’ve started sharing everything on my close friends list on Instagram, whether it’s random thoughts, the food I’ve cooked, or weird thoughts that pop into my head. Sometimes, you just need to vent or share a random thought so it doesn’t weigh on your mind. Plus, I’m making an effort to celebrate my small wins, no matter how silly they seem. For ages, I battled with the whole idea of being silly. Let’s be real it can be a real challenge to embrace your silly side! But you know what? People actually don’t mind when you’re a bit daft. So, I decided to throw caution to the wind and started posting the most random things on TikTok, complete with the silliest songs I could find. I mean, why not? At the end of the day, just share whatever brings you joy. Who cares what anyone else thinks? Life’s too short to take yourself seriously!
I also made a bold move and unfollowed a few people who I used to look up to but now just make me feel… well, not great. You know those girls who seem to have it all together? The ones who are achieving all the things you secretly want for yourself? Yeah, I followed a lot of them, but it turns out, constantly comparing myself to their highlight reels wasn’t doing me any favours. Sometimes, I found myself feeling inadequate just by comparing their lives to mine. I suppose this is all part of life. There are moments when you don’t feel inspired and instead find yourself battling envy, wishing your life was as smooth as someone else’s. So now, I just remind myself that it’s okay to know who they are without needing to know everything about their lives. Plus, it gives me the space I need to stop feeling insecure about my own journey.
So yeah, I’m still figuring things out, but one thing’s for sure I’m done with the whole deactivate-reactivate cycle. It’s time to live life without constantly feeling like I need to hide from it.
Today, I’m going to share my fun (read: exhausting) experience as the caregiver of Ibu! And let me tell you, it took every ounce of energy and emotional resilience I had to sit down and write this. But here we are. So, buckle up, because this ride is wild.
Okay, quick context: Ibu has been unwell for more than two years. No need for specifics, but let’s just say if she actually listened to people (especially me), she’d probably be on the fast track to recovery. But, nope! She’s stubborn, and honestly, I don’t even know what else to say about her ego. It’s like I’m fighting a never-ending boss level in a video game that I didn’t sign up for.
I guess Ibu’s still in her denial phase. It’s been over two years since she first got sick, and honestly, I don’t think she’s ready to admit it. Like, I get it. No one wants to say, “Hey, I’m sick now, and I need help.” But come on, we’re way past that. We’ve been to the hospital, we’ve seen the doctors, and the situation is pretty clear. Yet somehow, she still acts like nothing’s wrong.
It’s wild, honestly. Some days, I think she just doesn’t want to admit it to herself because that would make it real. I think it’s that pride, you know? The pride of someone who used to run a whole household, work a full-time job, and never need anyone to do anything for her. She’s just not ready to let go of that. I guess that’s just part of the process, right? The denial. But it’s hard. Hard for me to watch her push herself too much, hard for her to accept that she needs to slow down.
Oh, and before you ask—yes, I do have brothers, but you know how brothers are… They’re just there, doing brother things. I don’t know, man, they’re clueless half the time. It’s like they exist in a completely different universe where house chores magically do themselves. So, yeah, I’m not exactly holding my breath for any help from them.
Now, let me just say this: being the only daughter in the family? HATE IT. With a passion. I feel like I’ve been cursed to juggle 100 different lives all at once. You know those video game characters that do everything – cook, clean, fight bad guys? Yeah, that’s me, but with house chores. And it’s not fun. I was not prepared for this. I’m only 19! (Wait, I’m not even 19 yet!) Here I am, trying to adult my way through this chaos, and I am straight-up crying every single day.
I’ve got friends, sure. But do you think they’d really get what it’s like to cry over the exhaustion of cooking, sweeping, and being a human alarm clock for an elderly person who refuses to listen? Nope. I don’t think so. They’re out here stressing over exams or, like, boys or something, while I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing toilet floors, mentally debating the meaning of life.
Let me tell you, when Ibu got admitted to the hospital, being the youngest among all the seasoned adult caregivers was pretty depressing. All these 35+ year-old daughters who looked like they had it all figured out, handling their stuff like pros, and then there’s me: trying not to burst into tears while struggling to figure out how to navigate all this without losing my mind. Sometimes I wonder, shouldn’t I be crying about flunking an exam or getting ghosted by a guy? But noooo, I’m out here crying because I’ve been sleeping on hospital floor for 10 days straight. I have no space for myself, and it’s just exhausting.
Oh, and don’t even get me started on the classic comment from Ibu’s friends when they come to visit: “Wah, dah boleh kahwin dah. Pandai masak semua.” Like, excuse me, if being able to cook and clean means I’m ready for marriage, then no thanks. I am NOT signing up to be someone’s personal maid. Hard pass. And then they throw in the whole “be patient” advice. Ugh, I really can’t stand hearing that! Maybe it’s because it feels like I get it all the time, and it just adds to my frustration. I know they’re trying to be supportive, but it makes me feel like a bad person for not handling everything with grace. Sometimes, I just wish they could understand how overwhelming this really is.
To cope with the madness, I started making vlogs of me cooking and baking–just to make it feel less overwhelming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not out here posting them, because let’s be honest, my cooking journey isn’t exactly influencer material and no one needs to listen me ranting about how tired I am in the background. But, you know, it helps me feel less like I’m drowning in house chores. Oh, and dancing! Yep, I dance while sweeping just to keep my sanity intact. It’s the only way I’m surviving.
Now, if you know Ibu, you’d know she’s one of the most diligent, fussy people on this planet. She sweeps the house every. single. day. without fail, even when she’s working 8 to 5. And, apparently, that means I’m expected to do the same? Um, no thanks, I’m tired. I’m emotionally drained after pushing myself to the limit in college, and now, being home is no walk in the park either. But I’m here, doing it anyway because… what choice do I have?
Oh, and let me tell you about the time I got scolded because one of Ibu’s plants died. I used to love plants, but honestly, Ibu has way too many! I even asked my brother to help take care of them, but he kept putting it off—ugh, I wish I could put off cooking for him! So, of course, the plant ended up dying. I get it; when you’re sick, everything feels more intense. But crying over a plant? Really? In the end, Ibu just asked the pekebun to handle it. Kan senang.
Sometimes I don’t want to say it, but the house does stress me out. The pressure is real. It’s tough though, you know? The house can be overwhelming sometimes. It feels like there’s no time for me. I just want five minutes of peace where I don’t have to think about laundry, or whether I remembered to give Ibu her meds. Some days, I wonder if the walls are closing in. Other days, I just cry it out and call it a win. But at the end of the day, I push through because what else can I do?
Now, I know this sounds like I’m complaining (okay, I am complaining), but hear me out. I’m learning things I never thought I would at this age. I’ve learned patience (well, mostly), and I’ve learned how to be adaptive. I’ve learned to find joy in small things and to appreciate the strength it takes to care for someone you love. I’ve learned that daydreaming about being married to a charming guy while scrubbing the toilet actually makes the chore a little less awful. And I’ve learned that sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is laugh–even if it’s at how ridiculous everything seems.
And let me be real with you all for a second: I wasn’t always this involved. Ibu did everything when I was growing up. So now, it feels like life is giving me a crash course on adulthood, whether I’m ready or not. But deep down, I know this is for a reason. Maybe it’s shaping me to be more responsible, more empathetic, and maybe, just maybe–more appreciative of everything Ibu did for me. Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’ll tell myself, even though it hurts along the way. Right now, I’m lying in bed, exhausted to my core, but you know what? I don’t care. I did the house chores, and I’m making sure Ibu’s health is priority number one.
So yeah, if you’re ever feeling like your life is too chaotic, just remember that somewhere out there, I’m probably crying over a pile of laundry or trying to convince Ibu to please take her medication. Anyway, make dua for Ibu, please. Not just for her health, but for her strength to get through this.
I often find myself caught in a quiet struggle that no one seems to notice. It’s not that people aren’t paying attention, but I’ve always been the type to carry my burdens alone, finding it almost impossible to ask for help. So, I struggle. In silence. Most days, I am tired and exhausted, really. It feels like life is testing me beyond what I can handle, and I don’t know how much more I’m supposed to bear.
Shame sneaks in as I look at my life. I’m not proud of it. It’s as if there’s nothing interesting or worthwhile about me, and I feel like I’m just… boring. I often wonder if people still want to be friends with me, or if my dullness has pushed them away. Doubt lingers in my heart. I start questioning my worth. Worse, I find myself questioning Allah’s wisdom. I hate admitting it, but I’ve found myself asking, “Why, Allah? Why are You testing me like this? Am I not worthy of Your love? Am I not a good enough Muslim?” These thoughts sit like a heavy weight on my chest, making me feel like a failure, like I’m not enough.
One day, I stood in front of the mirror, and I couldn’t bear to look at myself. The reflection staring back felt like a stranger, someone I didn’t recognise, or even like. I hated the person I’d become. I hated how I had let opportunities slip through my fingers, and how my life felt like one long list of missed chances. In that moment, I wondered if my life would ever get better. I’ve never felt particularly lucky, and it seemed like nothing was ever going to change.
But then, doubt crept in again. Is it really true that Allah tests us because He loves us? Could this pain, this struggle, really be a sign of His care for me?
There’s a verse from the Quran that’s quite common, one many people turn to in times like these:
“Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.” (Quran 2:286)
I know I’ve heard it countless times before, but even though it’s something everyone knows, but for me, it was the line that helped me see things clearly again. I remind myself of it over and over, sometimes until I’m exhausted from repeating it. But it is what it is. I have to swallow this truth: Allah doesn’t test me beyond what I can bear. Even if I feel overwhelmed, I know deep down that I have the strength to get through it, because Allah wouldn’t give me more than I can handle. He knows me better than I know myself.
There’s another verse I turn to when things feel unbearable:
“…Verily, with hardship comes ease.” (Quran 94:6)
It’s such a comforting reminder, though it’s not always easy to believe when the ease seems far away. But I keep telling myself, ease will come. Every hardship is met with a blessing, a relief, even if I can’t see it yet. It’s a promise from Allah, and I hold onto that promise when the weight feels too heavy to bear.
I still have days where the struggle feels too much, where I want to escape from everything. But then I remember why I’m here. Life isn’t meant to be easy. We’re meant to be tested, and these tests aren’t there to break us, they’re there to bring us closer to Allah.
If I’m tired, it’s alright. It doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It just means I’m human. And being a good Muslim doesn’t mean being perfect. It means accepting the tests I’m given with patience, even when it’s hard, and trusting that Allah’s wisdom is beyond my understanding.
So, I remind myself every day: I’m here to be tested. And with every hardship I face, with every moment of exhaustion, I hold onto the belief that these challenges are shaping me into the person Allah knows I can become. Even when I doubt myself, I try not to doubt Him.
After all, I’m just a human being, and even though I feel tired and broken, I’m still trying. And maybe, that’s what makes me a good Muslim, trusting in Allah, even when the path seems too hard to walk.
Seventeen years. That’s how long it’s been since Abah left us. It’s strange to think about how much time has passed because, in a way, I’ve lived my whole life without him, and yet, his absence feels like a constant presence. I was just two years old when he passed away—too young to remember his face, his voice, or the way he used to smile. It’s like a part of my life was taken before I even had the chance to hold onto it. It’s an emptiness that I carry with me, a void that sometimes feels overwhelming.
Sometimes, I find myself wondering what life would have been like if he were still here. Would I have been different if I had grown up with him? Would I have inherited his kindness, his wisdom, or maybe just the way he laughed at silly jokes? These are questions that linger in my mind, but they’re questions that will never have answers.
But as much as I feel that emptiness, I know it’s only a fraction of what Ibu must feel. She had to pick up the shattered pieces of her life and carry on without him, raising us all on her own. I know she tried to stay strong for us, but the pain of losing Abah never truly left her. Whenever I miss Abah, I know she must miss him even more. Whenever I feel that deep, aching void, I know Ibu feels it even deeper. And whenever I find myself needing Abah, I can only imagine how much more she must have needed him, how much she still needs him even now.
I wish I could take away that pain from Ibu. I wish I could have been old enough to remember Abah, to share stories with her about him, to keep his memory alive in a way that’s more than just a few faded photos and secondhand stories. But all I can do now is be here for her, to try to make her proud, to let her know that everything she’s done for us has mattered.
Abah may be gone, but he’s not forgotten. I see glimpses of him in the way Ibu talks about him, in the way she smiles when she recalls a memory that only she can remember. I hold onto those moments, even though they’re not mine, because they’re all I have of him. And sometimes, I think that maybe, just maybe, he’s still looking out for us in some way. I believe he’s watching over us, proud of how Ibu has raised us, proud of the family we’ve become.
The stories I’ve heard about Abah—his kindness, his generosity, and the way he touched the lives of those around him—make me wish I had the chance to know him myself. It’s strange how a person can feel so present through the stories and memories shared by others. They remind me that although I never knew him directly, he lives on through the impact he made on the people he loved and the values he instilled in those who knew him. As I build my own life, I hold onto these stories as a way to honor his memory, letting his spirit guide my actions and decisions, and ensuring that his presence is felt even in his absence.
As I sit here, seventeen years after his passing, I can’t help but ask for something from you, the reader. If you could, please take a moment to make a doa for Abah. Pray for his peace, wherever he is, and for Ibu, who has been through so much.
Abah, even though I never got to know you, I feel your presence in every step I take. And I promise to carry your memory with me, today and always.
Yay, it’s finally semester break! Even though I’m a bit late, three weeks into the break—I’ve finally had the chance to recharge and get back to feeling like myself. As Ibu always says, it takes me a bit of time to start functioning properly after a semester ends. So, better late than never—this blog is my way of saying, “I’m back!” Haha.
Time has a funny way of being excruciatingly slow when you are restless, and exhilaratingly fast when you are having the best moments of your life. As I reflect on my Semester 2, it’s clear that it wasn’t always smooth sailing. With my studies, work, and classes clashing, there were some long nights where, in the middle of studying, I’d hold my head in my hands and try to remind myself why I’m doing this in the first place. There were times when I’d compare myself to others and question why I wasn’t doing well enough, even though I was trying my best.
I started having daily affirmations because I needed to be reminded of my principles since sometimes, my heart doesn’t feel like it’s in the right place. Times like these scare me because I spend so much time trying to keep myself busy, get invested in something new, keep my hands on deck, and still, life finds a funny way of slipping in moments of vulnerability when I least need it. I guess if there’s one thing I haven’t outgrown, it’s my desire to keep myself as occupied as possible because it keeps me sane. But tough times will always pass, and they never leave us empty-handed; we always learn something, regardless of how harsh the lessons may be.
As this semester draws to a close, I’ve been reflecting on the incredible people who’ve made it truly special. This blog is dedicated to appreciating each of you who turned these months into a memorable journey. I’m grateful for every bit of companionship and friendship we’ve shared. So, here’s to celebrating you all and the impact you’ve had on me throughout the semester!
Here’s to Mel! I’ll start with her because, this semester, I found myself breaking down over seemingly minor things, and she never once left my side. She’s been my reality check, always making me see things from a different perspective. Whether it was through our deep discussions or her no-nonsense advice, Mel has taught me so much. She’s always been there, offering support and a much-needed dose of honesty. And she’s been a constant presence, even in the little things.
Here’s to Qila and Ely! Despite our busy lives, they always ensured the room stayed lively with their funny stories and cheerful vibes. Qila has a knack for pointing out things I often miss and helping me with my thoughts, making me see what I might be overlooking. I’m so grateful for both of them and the energy they brought into our space.
Here’s to Nadiea and Far! Our endless gossip sessions were definitely the highlight of the semester. Far’s life has been even more dramatic than I could have imagined, with plot twists that never fail to surprise me—Hahaha! I’m at the point where I either laugh at her stories or playfully scold her, though I have to admit, as a socially awkward person, I know I’d probably crumble if I were in Far’s shoes. Still, despite the drama, I truly admire how Far manages her emotions really well.
With Nadiea and Far, we rarely dive into the hard stuff, especially when it comes to our struggles with studies, but we always find ways to make sure we’re all okay when we’re together. It’s beautiful how we manage to shield each other from negativity, even without addressing it head-on. Nadiea, though usually quiet, is someone with whom I find I share similar values, and if you really get to know her, you’ll discover just how funny she truly is. Far, on the other hand, fills my heart with warmth and comfort. I’m deeply grateful for both of them—they’ve become the kind of people I can rely on for just about everything.
Despite sometimes looking like I’m left out, I’ve never actually felt excluded. I admit, I can be a bit boring and struggle to relate to some of their topics. Take K-pop, for instance—I’ve found myself asking for explainations because I just don’t get it. Haha. I sometimes feel like I’m not quite in tune with the fangirling scene. However, even when I’m not fully in sync with their interests, they’ve always made me feel included and valued. I truly appreciate how they’ve embraced our differences and kept our friendships strong.
Here’s to Ecah! Academically, the semester was a rollercoaster of stress, but I’m incredibly grateful for Ecah, who became my rock person for just about everything. I turned to her for nearly all my academic concerns, and she never once found my questions bothersome. Ecah’s presence has always been inspiring to me. I’d often find myself saying, “Ecahhhh, I nak tanya!!” and she was always available, even at the most random times. She was always there to help, and I’ll miss those times when Ecah and Zaf patiently helped me figure out where I’d gone wrong in my coding, almost every class. Hehe!
Here’s to Qis! I’m so glad I got so close to Qis, she always finds a way to make sure everyone around her is doing fine. There’s something about having that one friend you feel comfortable with for any physical connection, and for me, that friend is Qis. Her comforting presence is like a warm hug on a cold day. Here’s to Iffah! She’s been such a good friend and an amazing partner for speaking, and making every moment memorable. I’ll forever remember her funny WhatsApp stickers—they never fail to make me laugh, no matter how tough the day has been.
Here’s to Mazlin and Fareesya! Some might think Mazlin is loud, but to me, she’s the one who keeps the laughter rolling wherever she goes. Sometimes, I think she’s incredibly lucky because she makes so many hearts happy. Personally, I’m not a fan of loud crowds. If you find me quiet, it’s because I usually am, but I can be so loud with my friends. My kind of loud just has its limits. When I first met Mazlin, especially with Ecah and Qis by her side, I was struck by their dynamic energy and thought they were an unbeatable trio. Haha. At first, their energy did get on my nerves a bit, but I soon realised how much joy they brought into my life.
I guess I’ve been really hard on myself, but when I’m with them, life feels better. I laugh a lot—more than I ever thought possible. If anyone asked how I manage my busy life, I’d say it’s through laughter. It really lightens the burden. I’m also thrilled to have Fareesya in the mix. She’s the calmest one, like a beacon of tranquillity in the midst of chaos. I’m truly grateful for Mazlin and Fareesya. They both deserves all the good things coming their way because they’re so kind to everyone. Not to forget Fendy and Zaf! Fendy’s wonderfully unique personality has made the friendship truly enjoyable, and Zaf, your constant help with both studies and club work has been a lifesaver. Thanks to both of you for making this semester memorable!
Here’s to Ainul! I never thought I’d meet someone I hold dear like a sister, but Ainul has become exactly that. Getting through the semester was a breeze with her constant positivity, especially since we were always deep in club work. We often stayed late for meetings, but Ainul’s support made it all manageable. To me, she’s got a heart of gold and dedication that’s off the charts. Ainul always has a unique way of reassuring me to keep going, even when I doubted my own ability to manage it. I’m so lucky to have her in my life—she’s been a true gem through it all!
Also, a shout-out to some other incredible girls in the club. Here’s to Faizah! She’s one of the most loving and dedicated people I’ve met. I can’t help but feel a bit jealous—I wish I could run every day like she does! Haha. Here’s to Hazirah! Even though most people see her as quiet, she’s got this great sense of humour. Whenever we’re together, she’s always laughing. It’s fun seeing that side of her! Here’s to Hana! Working on club activities this semester was much easier with her around. As fellow academic excos, we managed to get through it all together. And here’s to Dina! She’s such a good person—seriously, just all-around good vibes. I wish I had more to say, but sometimes, it’s the simple things that matter the most.
Here’s to my other SASCOMM friends! I can honestly say I managed all the work this semester because of you guys. Navigating the challenges of our club activities, surviving endless meetings, and tackling problems has been an incredible journey. Being part of SASCOMM has been a wild ride, and I’ve grown in ways I never expected. I’ve learned how to juggle tasks, lead with confidence, and even survive on minimal sleep. From the countless brainstorming sessions where our ideas were all over the place, to the times we turned stress into success—every moment has been a lesson and a laugh. Thanks for being such an essential part of my growth and for making this semester an unforgettable adventure!
Here’s to Afza and Alya Atirah! They were like super random friends I made this semester. We got close while being in the Debat club—only three of us from KPPIM debating is insane—imagine three maths students debating, it’s like the universe decided to have a laugh! Haha. They literally saw a side of me that was really afraid to speak publicly, but somehow, I managed to pull it off. Despite the month-long delay before we finally got to debate as a group and as the government, my nerves were always on edge each week. But I’m really glad I became friends with them. Sometimes, random friends turn out to be the best ones. Also, here’s to Sofea! She’s also been my support in Debat and the reason I made it through. Our quirky chats, especially since we both share the same name, always made things fun. Thanks to three of you for making every Monday co-curricular meeting a bit more bearable!
Here’s to my 2Ds classmates! I wish I could highlight each one of you, but there are just so many of you! Despite the chaos of our 2D classes and the influx of new members, I found so much joy in attending them. The dynamic and sometimes hectic atmosphere, with all the new faces and personalities, only added to the fun and excitement of the semester. Whether we were racing against deadlines or navigating through the occasional mix-ups, every bit of it added to the fun. From the inside jokes to the panic-fueled study sessions, every moment was a joy. I’m so glad we got to experience it all together. Here’s to all the laughter, the shared struggles, and the memories we’ve made along the way!
And here’s to anyone we’ve grown close to along the way—whether through events or spontaneous moments—I’ll always hold you dear. You’ve made my uni days so much more enjoyable, from tackling group projects where we somehow turned chaos into order to simply being there when I needed support. I’ve genuinely made so many friendships that I truly cherish. I still remember how excited I was getting close to Faqihah and Maira during the MAD event; they are both so sweet and really brightened up those days. I’m truly grateful for all the amazing people I’ve met along the way.
As I wrap up this reflection on the past semester, I’m struck by just how many corners of my life have been brightened by incredible friends. Each moment, whether it was a spontaneous hangout or a late-night cram session, has been a testament to the vibrant and supportive community we’ve built together. From the random laughs to the heartfelt support, every experience has shaped this journey into something truly special. So here’s to all the friends who’ve popped up in every corner of my university life, making each day a bit brighter and every challenge a bit easier. Thanks for being the unexpected gems and the steadfast allies in this adventure. Here’s to all the laughter shared and the new chapters ahead—because with friends like you, every corner holds a promise of something wonderful.
I’ve been putting off writing a blog for my friend, Far, for far too long. It’s time to break out of this cycle of stagnation because how can I expect to grow if I don’t take action? Admittedly, completing this blog hasn’t been easy. It’s painful to confront the reality of how many hearts I’ve inadvertently hurt along the way. To all my friends whom I’ve hurt before, I’m truly sorry.
Recently, I stumbled upon a TikTok video featuring a poem for people who grapple with the fear of abandonment. It hit me hard, especially since I’ve had many discussions on this topic with Far. One question that stood out was, “How can I overcome my incredibly low self-esteem and the overwhelming sense of worthlessness that comes from fearing abandonment?”
My story begins with a significant loss—the absence of my father, who passed away when I was merely two. Growing up with just my mom, this early loss planted a deep-seated fear of being left behind. I’ve always wondered if I was worthy of love and support, and this fear shaped much of my life.
When I was 17, a friendship breakup triggered my deep fear of abandonment as I noticed my friend drifting towards a new group. Instead of facing my insecurities, I withdrew, giving my friend the cold shoulder without explanation, believing it was a defense against rejection. But what I failed to realise was the hurt I was causing my friend—the very person who had stood by me through thick and thin, who had shared my laughter and wiped away my tears. My actions left her confused and hurt, wondering what she had done to deserve such treatment from someone she considered a close friend. I realised too late how my fear of abandonment had driven me to push away someone who mattered deeply to me.
But perhaps the most important lesson I gleaned from this experience was the value of communication and honesty in relationships. I learned that it’s okay to feel afraid, but it’s not okay to let that fear dictate my actions and hurt those I care about. I learned that true strength lies in being vulnerable—in sharing our fears and insecurities rather than hiding them behind walls.
Then came the academic rejections, which seemed to echo my fear of abandonment in a new way. It’s strange, really, how getting turned down for scholarships hurts more than any breakup. The pinnacle of this rejection came when I faced the disappointment of being turned down by numerous scholarship programs. It felt like they were rejecting not just my dreams but me as a person.
Sometimes worrying so much about the future causes me to live in another timeframe instead of being in the moment. I often find myself imagining all kinds of scenarios in the future. Occasionally, I feel like Doctor Strange, calculating the possibility of winning against Thanos. It’s just not Thanos that I’m fighting right now. Just my own head and my dreams.
In reality, I’ve come to understand that my fear of rejection extends beyond just social situations—it affects my approach to love and relationships as well. While it’s normal for most people to feel nervous in situations that could lead to rejection, for me, that fear becomes overwhelming. It’s as if I’m afraid to fully invest myself in relationships, fearing the possibility of rejection so intensely that it overshadows any potential for happiness.
So, whenever someone tells me they’re not ready for a relationship, I truly understand how some people feel unworthy of love. It’s like carrying around a heavy burden of past hurts and doubts, making it hard to believe in our own worthiness. I know that feeling of longing for connection, while also fearing rejection. But in those moments, I remind myself: We are all deserving of love, despite our imperfections. It’s about finding the strength to believe in our own value, even when it feels like the world is telling us otherwise.
During my moments of self-pity, I fell into another toxic habit: comparing myself to others. Even though I knew deep down that comparison doesn’t lead anywhere good and that happiness isn’t a competition, I struggled to follow my own advice. I became overly harsh on myself, constantly judging my attitude, personality, appearance, and academic achievements against those of everyone around me. This constant comparison left me feeling like I was never enough.
I read somewhere that when you’re really insecure, you tend to apologise a lot. I’ve noticed it in myself too. Sometimes, when things don’t go well, I apologise far too often. When people say that girls and women are too apologetic for their own good, I now get it. Even for things that are beyond our control, we apologise.
I would sometimes berate myself for not being okay; as if it were wrong to be a little bit sad at times. Like I said, I was unnecessarily hard on myself. You see, if you’re familiar with me, you’d know that I’m generally a happy person. As in, extremely happy; genuine laughter, mudah terhibur, and a happy smile. It’s part of how people see me as well.
So, when some of my friends started telling me that they could sense I was sad, even though I hadn’t talked to them in a while, I was scared. I had the impression that I was losing a part of myself when, in reality, I was just being a normal human being. A person who has the right to be happy and sad at the same time; who requires a balance of both to begin learning from her mistakes and to be more grateful for what the world brings to the table.
Despite these struggles, I’ve learned that insecurities are a part of being human. We all have moments of doubt and uncertainty, and facing my fear of abandonment has taught me that vulnerability is a form of strength, not weakness.
In the end, it’s all about finding that balance between protecting ourselves and allowing ourselves to be open to love and connection. It’s a journey worth taking, full of learning and growing, and it all starts with believing that we’re worthy of the love and happiness we seek.
— I’m re-uploading this blog post because it seems to have disappeared for some reason.
Recently, I have been thinking about how people cope with disappointments. You know those times when someone lets you down, and you feel that rush of sadness or frustration hit you like a ton of bricks? It’s a feeling I’ve become quite familiar with over the year.
Just the other day, I came across an Instagram post that truly resonated with me. It said, “Jangan terlalu nurut sama perasaan.” It got me thinking about how our emotions, as valid as they are, shouldn’t always dictate our actions.
What I’ve learned is that those emotions, as raw and powerful as they may be, are completely valid. They’re a natural part of being human, a sign that we care deeply about the people and things that matter to us. But here’s the thing: our feelings don’t have to dictate our actions.
For me, it’s been about recognising that there’s a space between how I feel and what I choose to do next. It’s like my emotions are on one track, racing ahead at full speed, while my actions are on another, waiting for me to decide where to steer them. This realisation has given me a newfound sense of control and peace.
When I feel let down, I’ve started giving myself permission to feel those emotions fully. It’s important to acknowledge them, to understand why they’re there. But instead of letting them drive my reactions, I’ve been trying to take a step back. Maybe I need to take a deep breath and give myself time to process before I respond. Or perhaps I can find a way to address the situation calmly and constructively, without letting my emotions take control. These small pauses can make a world of difference in how I handle difficult situations.
It’s in those moments of choosing how to respond that I feel like I’m really growing as a person. I’m learning to see my actions as a reflection of who I am, of my values and beliefs. It’s about handling disappointment with grace and understanding, not just for others but for myself too.
So, if you’re going through something similar right now, know that your feelings are valid. It’s okay to feel hurt, upset, or let down. But remember, you have the power to choose how you respond. Your actions matter—they’re what can make a real difference in how you navigate through those tough moments.
You know, life has a funny way of surprising us. Sometimes, it feels like we’re stuck on a path that’s going nowhere, and other times, it feels like everything is falling into place perfectly. June 8th is a day that highlights these unexpected twists and turns in my life, showing how things can change in ways we never imagined.
Last year, on June 8th, 2023, I was feeling pretty down. I had just gotten my SPM results and I was so close to getting straight As, but I missed it by one grade. I had worked so hard and put in so many hours studying, and not hitting that goal felt like a huge disappointment. I couldn’t help but wonder if all the stress and effort had been worth it. I felt like I had let myself and everyone who believed in me down.
But then, June 8th, 2024 rolled around and everything was different. I found myself receiving the Dean’s Award at my university, with a perfect 4.0 GPA. It was such an amazing moment. The feelings of sadness and failure from the previous year were replaced with pride and gratitude. It was hard to believe that just a year ago I had been in such a different place.
Looking back, I realise that the setbacks and challenges I faced weren’t the end of the world. They were just bumps in the road that made me stronger and more determined. Each disappointment pushed me to work harder and smarter, leading to successes I hadn’t even imagined.
June 8th now reminds me that life is full of surprises. Even when things seem bleak, there’s always a chance for things to turn around. The lows make the highs even more meaningful, and every struggle is just a stepping stone towards something greater.
So, as I move forward, I keep the lessons I’ve learned close to my heart. Life will always have its ups and downs, but it’s how we handle them that defines our journey. June 8th will always remind me to stay hopeful, keep pushing forward, and embrace every twist and turn along the way.
s o y a w r i t e s 
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