Oleh : Sarah Irdina (Melalui Program Write Up Story)

 

“What is your biggest fear?” That one single sentence echoes throughout my entire room.

I hear muffles of my classmates’ answers as they race with one another to unmute their microphones on Zoom. But none of their answers seem to stick in my mind, and neither did my lecturer’s explanation.

My lecturer goes on to explain the connection of fear and one’s will-power to live as a result of the literary analysis we were doing on the chosen story of the week.

The best part about being a literature student is that you slowly start to understand other’s choices, whether bad or good and their reasons. However, today nothing that my lecturer says can bring my attention back to class.

“What is your biggest fear?” Again, it echoes through my brain.

Height?

Darkness?

No. I have overcome those many years ago.

Failure?

Solitude?

Oddly, though I am barely through my 20s, I feel as if I have gone through these common fears. Perhaps this is the reason people often say I am too mature for my age, a phrase I have heard far too many times that it disgusts me. It no longer sounds like a complement to me.

Death?

No. I am too reckless to fear death, yet I am too faithful to embrace death. I have come to peace with many of these fears. I

Then it strikes me. The one thing I deeply fear that can destroy every effort I have put into healing. The one thing that restrains me from embracing my full potential and accepting the love I truly deserve.

My brain.

My brain that is responsible for the occasional beautiful poems I write that become the subject of praise among my friends. My brain that is responsible for the melancholy pictures I paint. Yet somehow it is responsible for the most awful thoughts ever known to mind kind.

The one thing that keeps me up for many nights, pacing back and forth across my room as if I was on a race with the surge of inhumane thoughts that go through my brain.

I am more than aware of how fortunate and loved I am, but perhaps my brain is not aware of this. It’s devilish presence as more and more thoughts are planted into my head, until my soul gives in and I am nothing but a wreck.

The worst part is not even over, as the next few days that usually ensures are mostly filled with me wondering how something I cannot see, planted deep beneath my skull can cause me so much pain.

But the worst part is the explanations that everyone seems to expect from you. I hate how they look at you with judgement and mistrust. I hate their looks of pity, as if I am a defective object on sale.

I hate how my brain singles me out from my peers. I hate how when I watch movies that glorify my condition, I feel immense disgust when I hear hypocritical comments from the same peers that brush off my problems as ‘dramatic’ and ‘excuses’.

I hate how it makes me turn against on my friends. I hate how hateful I become when I am upset. Yet what I hate the most is my inability to control my own brain, something that ceases to be without my existence.

These days, I hate how I am dependent on little white, round pills prescribed to me about two years ago to calm me down. But at least it helps me to actually be me.

And the Doctors I meet every month are nice. And how this curse of mine connects me to other misunderstood souls.

I am happy I recognize the distressed a mile away and provide at least a little relief to them. I am happy. Perhaps. Maybe like the other fears I made peace with, one day I’ll befriend my own brain. Maybe I can convince it to be on my side for once.

“Alright!” I am struck back to reality when I hear my lecturer’s voice once again echoing in my room.

“Before we wrap up. Just remember that someone’s fear and flaws do not define them.”

Tarikh Input: 28/10/2022 | Kemaskini: 01/11/2022 | anis_akmil