Roughly 3 years ago, while I was still exploring what I loved and what I did not, I came across an educational institution. I was extremely passionate about this place, and its outlook on education. I thought I would belong to this place, and I decided to do all that I could to get accepted. Yes, wrote all the exams, worked as hard as I could and tried to fit a certain mould. And, I made it. Unlike others, though, I had not been eligible for a scholarship, owing to my mediocre performance in the exams. In this institution, everybody was only better than the other, and it was quite hard to not experience a complex. I made up my mind, I would not be one of those students, because I was here to learn.
Turns out you need much more than that intention to survive sometimes.
An environment so competitive that every achievement was easily topped by another, with not enough appreciation ever, with no happiness associated with it only because there was always something bigger and better to be achieved, my time at this institution crawled at a slow and hurtful speed. Two years into it, and I knew what I wanted: freedom. Freedom to study as I pleased, how I pleased. I never had the intentions of studying what everyone else in my class did, and sometimes, because they wished to study it. I slowly grew out of a cliché, knowing fully well that I had chosen to be in one. Being an academically sound student, it was always assumed that I could handle the pressure one way or another.
But, I was human and I had my limitations too.
Fast forward a few months. New country, new school, new year. Start afresh, with new opinions and perceptions? New energies? Deceivingly, yes. This school was a struggle personified, where students knew what they wanted and yet, they weren’t doing what they wanted to. If only life was that easy, you might ironically sigh, but I always believed it to be thus. The lonely idealist, in a school were being a human had less competition than being a machine, discovers her way through life. A potential book, and one that could most certainly end up being a bestseller.
Anyway, I had many more problems in that school, because I was now asked to let go of myself to get somewhere; a place I did not even want to end up in. All said and done, I became a rebel, for myself. I still did not know what I wanted, what I was rebelling for. Life went on, mechanically and predictably. I had resisted my past only to become more regretful and pathetic. Amidst this raging chaos in my mind, I travelled to one half of the world, and I let go. Let go of who I was, who I had been. I lived not as a human, not as a girl, but as a soul. No strings attached, owing nothing to anybody and just living.
Just living. Alive, with a normal resting heart rate of 100 beats per minute. And, content. Content with waking up every morning, and filling out a page of life with the words that appealed to me most.
A lethal combination, to be alive and content at the same time. One that could fall prey to many more deadly predators, especially those who knew the power this lethal combination held within.