Dear Teacher, Chef, Journalist, Vlogger, Scriptwriter, Director, Diplomat, and Writer.
I’m truly sorry for abandoning you these last eight years. These last eight years were kinda rough. I learned so many things till I was unable to make time for pampering you.
These past eight years, I learned things that had never crossed my mind before. I started realizing that paying bills cannot be done in a blink of an eye. I started acknowledging that food and rent are two essential things that don’t come cheap. I started counting my daily, monthly, and annual needs. Then I started thinking, how in Earth I could possibly afford it? And then, gradually, I started believing that I need a secure job to secure my future.
Ah, yes. I’m truly sorry for not believing you. I’m sorry for questioning you.
Yes, people spoiled me. They told me that you can’t give me a decent living. They told me that all of you are not reliable. They told me to start looking for another dream; a dream that have a respectable place in this world. A dream that is highly valued by society. “Ever consider being a doctor?” they said, as if being a doctor can be done as easy as lying.
Moreover, they pushed me to consider a still-fictional thing: family. “What about your child if you’re a movie director? You’re gonna leave them behind, aren’t you?” said their facial expression when I told them about one of you. “What about your husband if you’re assigned to stay in another country for five years? Don’t you think that the job ‘diplomat’ doesn’t suit you?” others said.
But, I’m not going to blame other people. It is me who is too naive to believe. It’s me who believe their shallow thoughts. I must have had believed that things like that doesn’t matter. A decent living can be pursued by any kind of livelihood as long as I enjoy what I do. I should realize sooner that my happiness is my priority and that my happiness can be seized by being what I want to be.
However, I guess it’s too late. I’m already poisoned by those thoughts. I’ve already seen them as some logical reasons. Maybe this is what people call as ‘growing up’. But if this is really is ‘growing up’, I guess growing up also means the death of childhood dreams.
So, if all of you are what used to be some precious seeds, I’m sorry for not giving any fertilizer to you. I’m sorry for not watering you these past eight years. I’m sorry to let you get crippled and forgotten over the years.
But, there’s one thing I want to say.
I really hope that I haven’t killed you all; I hope you’re just staying dormant. I wish that one day you can grow well and healthy. I wish that one day you can be a proof that people are wrong condescending you.
The girl who pledged to encourage other children to look after their precious seeds.