I have no mouth

I have no mouth  

Would a fish be able to differentiate a pond from the ocean? And if it does, which would it desire? Should it opt for comfort within familiar walls, or embrace an infinite blue of freedom. According to most fishes, the choice of boundless space is obvious. To feel the liberating current ebb and flow through its scales as it embraces the murky marine and its unchartered depths brimming with opportunities and discovery. Or at least that was what I interpreted from my conversations with them...it was rather difficult to understand their tongue. Thankfully I could immerse myself into their reality, for the same waters that embody their way of life caught me drowning in it this semester. I have no gills beneath these waves, and I must breathe.  

I walked across the seabed determined to satisfy my hunger for validation. My time last term left me starving, and my desperation saw me scouring the unforgiving landscape for crumbs. I savored every drop. Every morsel was tantalizing to the mind, instant euphoria that validated my efforts. I wanted more. I needed it. After all, this was dubbed the easier semester as a fresh undergraduate. Confidence surged through my bloodstream as I navigated through the academic marine. I spent hours crafting each word in my papers, time that danced gracefully to the symphony of endless nights. Every letter was deliberate. Every thought was forcefully stripped of originality - my work must be perfect in the eyes of my educators. I shall feast at the journey's end. 

Looking back, I suppose this was one of my greatest failures - clinging onto the belief that to stop consuming is to stop being human. A gloomy overcast swallowed the sky, and a marine of black emerged. Everything I was doing seemed wrong, and my frustration grew with every subpar grade I received. Feedback turned into daggers that punctured the flesh that once surged with passion to make a difference. Determination left my body, and the joy of learning vanished. Every opportunity to showcase my experiences and talents twisted into a dreadful reminder that my efforts would accumulate to nothing. By the semester's end, I was devoid of academic pleasure. A husk without the thing between skin and bone. 

Interestingly, while it was this battle of self-esteem that transformed my ocean into a pond, it was a necessary experience for me to go through. It squashed my dream-like perception of university and slammed me back to reality. Some fishes are just more capable of adapting to unknown waters than others, but they all get there in due time. See but time isn't a commodity some of us can afford. Some of us want immediate validation because it has always been unreachable all these years, and for the last leg of our academic journey, we become desperate for it. To obtain the previously thought unfathomable. To live among the enlightened and join their ranks. 

When I confide in others, the cliche tune of "your grades don't define your efforts" fills the air, igniting the atmosphere with variations focusing on my "other strengths" and "learning experiences". Smoke engulfs my mind, and the smell of comfort and resentment fuses into something confusing to the nose. While I am thankful for the kind words of encouragement by those around me, there comes a point where, to put it bluntly, none of it matters. A sculptor would only appreciate his calloused hands once he chisels a masterpiece. The meaningless turned meaning after the desired outcome. A motivating premise praising my academic efforts means little to me when it fails to reach my desired outcome. And again, while I cherish those moments of friendly comfort, I needed something different. Something raw. Something that would free me from a labyrinth of inflicted pressure and expectations. 

That was when I met her, and my reality bathed in an inexplicable light that guided me out of my mental maze. Any attempt to capture how she makes me feel remains unjust - no words can express her essence, and no actions of mine can possibly reflect how much I care for her. And yet, despite these limitations, I am happy. Every step is a new memory. Every breath is an echo that drowns the empty noise of every day. Days with her pass by too quickly, with each passing day without her painfully slowing down. I may not know much about love, but I know that I want to spend the rest of my days beside her and unravel this enigma together. 

But even with this semester romanticised, it felt like a blurry recurrent. Like an endless dream that I couldn't break free from. Newly forged friendships and additional responsibilities were like raindrops on a foggy windowpane, leaving thin streaks of clarity as they slid down the glass. Once the storm settles, all that greets me are these lines of life beyond the misty surface. A snapshot of the other side

And so I wonder what people think of when they say they enjoy their time in university. Are components like making new friends or "immersing in their culture" during overseas exchanges just convenient by-products of this particular education branch, or should we credit them to the "true" university experience.  At this stage, I feel that a university's grueling, academic grind is its primary premise, and everything else convenient falls as by-products we allude to the institution. I don't know how I feel about that. 

But I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, not when we are already this deep in the pond. We need to continue swimming through the unforgiving current. The ocean awaits us beyond these shallow waters. We are all in this together, answering to the call of this blue liberty. Till then we must remain obedient and dance to its demanding rythm, a relatively easy task for us to accomplish. For in this journey, at least for me, it already treads closely to rigidity. Like I have no mouth, 

And I must scream.