anigilmoree

[anigilmoree]

Weekly Journal 3: Don't judge a book by its cover.

Being in college has always been my dream since I was in primary school because I can do everything I want, like hanging out with friends after class and even waking up late to go to classes. I’ve heard many people say that college classes usually start late than high school, and I was so delighted when I found out about that. After SPM ended, I applied to KPTM, and finally, I got accepted!

One time, I was scrolling through TikTok, and I saw many videos on my page saying that KPTM is a red flag and things like that. I was totally fine with it because, personally, I think if we find a good circle and maintain our faith in Allah, we will be just fine. I also heard many stories about the types of people in college—the freerider, the stingy person, and the messy person. Honestly, I wished I wouldn’t meet those kinds of people, but unfortunately, I did, and even worse than that.

Long story short, I met this one girl, from her appearance, she seemed so innocent and kind—a good person to be friends with. I always wondered why she was always alone, and sometimes I felt pity for her because of it. So, one day, I decided to ask her if she wanted to have dinner together. At first, I was quite shocked when she wanted to share food with me because we had just met. But I thought positively, maybe she didn’t have the mood to eat or didn’t have money, so I was okay with it. The second time I asked her to have dinner together, she said she wanted to share food again, but unfortunately, I couldn’t go because I had an emergency.

My friends asked if I had gone out with her, and when I said yes, they gave me a strange look. I asked them why, and one of them told me that she always takes their food without permission. Still, I tried to think positively, believing she might not have money. However, she told me both her parents are financially capable, and I was quite shocked. Week by week, I started to dislike her, but deep down in my heart , I didn’t want to hate her. She would constantly rely on me and sulk, acting like I was her mother or boyfriend—expecting me to do everything for her. Her jokes were sometimes too much and made people around her uncomfortable.

For me, sharing is not caring when you’re always taking from others. It’s not sharing; it’s torturing other people’s money. From this experience, I’ve just known that my parents raised me so well and I’m really grateful for that. As time went on, I realised that being kind and compassionate is important, but it’s also important to protect my own well-being. I’ll continue being kind, but now I know the importance of setting boundaries and not letting anyone take advantage of my kindness.

[anigilmoree]

Weekly Journal 2: Being the youngest sibling!

Many people say that being the youngest sibling is such a dream come true, and they’re often spoiled by everyone, especially parents and siblings. I kind of admit it because I’m the youngest in my family! I’m really lucky to be. I have two gorgeous older sisters and two older brothers, and I love them very much.

The eldest in my family is my clumsy sister, Amalina, whom I call Along. I call her clumsy because she frequently loses her things, especially glasses. She’s turning 30 next year, and I feel a bit sad knowing she’s getting older and is still single. But it’s okay because, honestly, deep down, I don’t want her to get married, knowing she’ll love her children more than me—I’m so dramatic! She’s also the smartest in our family and genius at mathematic.

The second one is my brother, Shahmil, whom I call Abe (which is Kelantanese slang for ‘Abang,’ meaning brother). He’s the funniest in our family, or I’d say the best comedian in the world. He always shows me funny videos, and we laugh together. He often treats me whatever I want, especially food, and my brother and I always make fun of Along.

My next brother is Shahmi, but I address him as Saming. He’s studying for his degree at UniKL Bangi, which is near my college . His taste in music is hip-hop or rap because every time he drives, that’s what he plays. I’m the closest to him among all my siblings. He’s also the slimmest among us .

The second youngest is my tall sister, Amalia, whom we address as Noya or Niya. Don’t ask me why, we don’t know the origin of the nickname! In Kelantan, she’s my roommate, and we’re really close to each other, probably because we’re both Gen Z and understand modern humor. We often fight, but after all blood is thicker than water. I still love her, though. We also share secrets, and she’s the first person to know everything that happens to me, whether it’s good or bad.

Even though we have our own differences and sometimes we argue , I wouldn’t trade them for anything . Each one of them brings something unique to my life. Being the youngest means I get to watch them all grow and succeed, and I’m so proud to be a part of this family. Even though they tease me, spoil me, and sometimes drive me crazy, I know I’ll always have their love and support. Honestly, that’s the best part of being the youngest.

[anigilmoree]

Weekly Journal 1: My Overthinking

Back then, I always faced this emotion of overthinking, and actually, I still do. The craziest episode of overthinking I had was when I was 10 years old. You might think I’m crazy or even have a heart attack (just kidding) when you hear my story.

So, back to the story: I was at school and bought lunch from one of my classmates because her family owned a restaurant, and I wanted to give their food a try. It was rice with chicken curry (I don’t quite remember) and it was wrapped in food packaging paper and tied with a rubber band (you know, the typical Malay food wrapping). My classmate opened the wrapping, and when she tried to tie it back, the rubber band disappeared. So, she found a solution and wrapped my food using a stapler.

I ate at the canteen, and the food was really good until I felt something sharp in my throat. Panic overtook me, and that’s when my overthinking kicked in, I started to overthink that I might have swallowed a stapler bullet. I jumped up from my chair and tried to find the stapler bullet (unfortunately, I couldn’t find it).Only Allah knows how anxious I felt at that moment. My mind raced: ‘Could a stapler bullet puncture my stomach? What if I needed surgery? Should I rush to the hospital?’ Each thought spiraled into another, feeding the growing fear inside me. I was overthinking, as usual, letting anxiety get the best of me. The only person who knew about this was my puppy love, Azim (fake name)— we’ve already broken up.

When I got home, I cried in the bathroom because I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Suddenly, I heard my grandmother’s voice in the house. She asked my mother if it was true that I had swallowed a stapler bullet. My mom was shocked and asked me about it. OF COURSE I denied it! I wondered how my grandmother knew, and then I remembered that Azim’s grandmother was close with her. I felt so embarrassed, imagining how many people might have known about this —not so demure

The next day at school, I cried my eyes out in the bathroom. A friend saw me and told the teacher. When I got home, I was ready to go to the hospital with my father and sister. We waited at the hospital for what felt like forever. I felt bad for my sister, though. To my sister, if you’re reading this, I LOVE YOU! Finally, I had an X-ray, and the doctor put a camera down my throat. Guess what? There was no stapler bullet. The doctor said I would need surgery if the pain persisted, but week by week, I started to feel okay.

In the end, my overthinking had turned a small issue into a mental hurricane. I was really grateful that nothing happened to me, but I’m still ashamed of that incident because all my friends still remember it.