In the vibrant month of July in Kuala Lumpur, I stood tall in a ray of light that outshone even the sunshine by the roadside. Sweat trickled from my forehead down to the curve of my right cheek. It was an odd sensation; despite the heat, a cold breeze brushed against my skin, leaving me feeling numb and disoriented. Whispers and fleeting faces darted around me in rapid motion, unsettling me to the point where I knelt, embracing myself as if words were threads weaving into my ears. The clamour grew louder and louder until, touched on the shoulder by an elderly lady, I collapsed.
The sounds of metallic clanking and creaking wheels filled the air, urging me to open my eyes. There stood an old lady, her delicate skin adorned with wrinkles and a white scarf, smiling gently. “Was it the weather bothering you, young lady?” she chuckled.
As I sat in the hospital bed, staring out the window at Kuala Lumpur’s bustling cityscape, I couldn’t help but feel disconnected from the vibrant world outside.
The July heat intensified, yet I shivered under the thin hospital blanket, my body still trembling from the recent episode that had brought me here. Guilt gnawed at me relentlessly—for burdening my loved ones, for failing to manage my own mind, for feeling like a disappointment.The faces and whispers that had haunted me moments ago now echoed louder, blending into a disorienting cacophony.
Amidst the distant voices of nurses, I saw myself through a distorted lens: a young patient with weary eyes and pale skin, grappling with invisible demons that seemed to weigh me down more than any physical ailment ever could. Each breath felt heavy, as if I carried the weight of the universe on my shoulders, yet remained misunderstood by those who hadn’t walked this path.
Then, I felt the gentle touch of the old lady’s hand on my shoulder once more—a fleeting moment of human connection in a sea of uncertainty. Amidst the clanking of bed rails and the distant echoes of life moving forward, I began to understand that healing wasn’t just about physical recovery. It was about accepting the tangled threads of emotions woven within me and finding the strength to unravel them one by one. Focus on the step in front of you, not the whole staircase.
In that hospital room, I saw not just a patient but a person with resilience and hope flickering in the depths of those weary eyes. This façade that I parade is not theatrical; it exists engraved within me.
And so, I thanked the old lady, “Thank you, mother.”