“Believe in yourself.”

Unlike the infamous Japanese watermelon, I can’t grow into a box. Even as a growing plant, it must’ve felt stunted. And stunted is what I felt.

I panned out my post-university life as so: first month after coming back from uni, create a resume to be proud of; second month, use said resumes for applications and head in for interviews. The rest was a matter of history, I would be working where I wanted to be -on the island, while my boyfriend continues his studies. When he’s done, we’ll both be accompanied by each other in the working world and decide to live in the city or continue on the island.

Like Nemo swimming out pass the cliff, I viewed from my screens to the postings and listings and company outings and I was tiny. Tiny compared to everyone else making a name for themselves; anyone else taking a space, living up to their ambition, creating an image, amounting to something. Placed in a sea of people, I started floating.

It’s exactly two months tomorrow that I’ve left my hostel room and my rights to enter the university library. I’ve been shoved into this rat race running along the walls of this maze. Turning where the path turns, deciding a path where it diverges: “Island or City?” “Family or Boyfriend?” “Bustling or Cushy?” “Variety or Specificity?” “Career Fulfillment or Love, what is happiness?”

Scalp stretched over a brain threatening to explode. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling: Empty, ah. My little sister, a week away from her SPM trials is the one who muttered to me those words titled above. And I know, deep in my heart that life is not just meant to be a rat race. I believe in my convictions and I believe I was not just meant to do a job. I was meant to work for my purpose.