Pasta, class of 2028
“All endings are also beginnings.
We just don’t know it at the time”
— Mitch Albom, author of ‘The Time Keeper’
What I viewed as my ending happened a few months ago, where my world had shifted in a way I
never thought it would. Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Four years ago today, I might have been sitting at my desk on my laptop, wondering whether my
friends would answer my messages to play games. Back then, I lived a fair life in Thailand. A
place that I was familiar with. A time in which I thought I knew what direction my life would
head towards. It was around the middle of the pandemic that put us all indoors. A historic event
that had everyone living in fear, thinking that it was the end of all humanity. However, like most
children, my past-self wasn’t scared. Heck, she spent most of her days waking up and
immediately joining the online classes she had to attend, whilst secretly calling with her friends.
Each of those days were filled with Roblox adventures and discord conversations that had me
cracking up. My world revolved around a bubble that shielded me from everything else. In
simple words: it was all weightless fun. By then, I already had a goal which I developed in fifth
grade. It was to become a writer, but I wasn’t particularly doing anything much with it. My dad
had encouraged me to post some of my stories online and I agreed. Being the old-fashioned
person I was, I wrote everything by hand before I typed it all down onto the computer—with
horrible grammar and structure, of course. It was only canon that I started my stories with “Once
Upon a Time”. But that was it. It was like my dream wasn’t a dream yet. The rest of my days
were occupied by my friends and homework, and occasionally anime and TikTok. I loved the
feelings I had during those times. I didn’t have to think about anything at all. I was home and
happy; I wanted things to stay the same forever.
Two years ago today, I might have been anxiously sitting and going over my debate notes with
my teammates—or, in normal circumstances, my best friends. A year before, one of my friends
had invited me to join the ‘Speech and Debate’ club. So debate was something that I deliberately
picked up and stuck with for my portfolio. Because of debate, I got to travel all around to attend
competitions, like in Seoul. For this experience, I had a taste of independence for the first time in
my life; it was sweet. However, at the same time, I also felt intimidated by the world. Every
corner I looked, was someone who was smart and everything that I wasn’t. Sometimes I couldn’t
help but feel stuck, so I sought to try harder than I usually do. Turns out many people still tried
harder than that and weren't half as clumsy as I was. The angst in the air led to many tears being
shed. Sometimes I cried together with my friends; sometimes I cried alone. Thus, debate became
a bittersweet mix of pain and happiness. At the time, I often thought that I wasn’t good enough.
It put me in a difficult position. Yet, even though that confined me to a blurry place for a while,
there was always one thing that remained clear to me: I still loved to write. At one point, that
became one that defined my identity. In the debate competitions, there was a writing section
which I loved most. I wanted to prove myself to everyone, including myself. Writing was my
source of validation and self-acceptance in the tournaments.
Other than debate, I also wrote during my free time. I dreamt of having my own fairytale world
and my own characters, like in Harry Potter or Percy Jackson. So I continued to write and write
original stories. It made me happy to develop the characters in my own novel. All my English
teachers also encouraged it; it made me happy. So every chance I got, mostly in my free periods
at school, I worked on a book—although it still remains unfinished to this day.
Later, as I was in the eighth grade, I also became nervous about university. Back then, I was in
an international school with about three hundred students in the middle of Bangkok. My
classmates and teachers made the school my inner world, but the system overall wasn’t great.
But still, I had a dream to become a great writer and to aim towards Columbia University—an
Ivy League university that has an advanced education in creative writing. I wanted to make it for
my little school.
In the past, the directions I had in my head were straight forward. I was going to graduate in
Thailand with my friends and try to apply to Columbia University. If that didn’t work, I would
apply to one of the schools my friends were applying to and become roommates with them. I was
to spend my high school years with the people I thought I would, and they would be there with
me at my graduation ceremony. My ideals weren’t much; they were more aimed towards what I
wanted, not how I was going to make it.
One year ago today, I may have been stressing out about my school work or life in general,
waiting for the day I would go to New Haven, Connecticut, for a debate trip—it was my only
source of escape from reality. A few months ago, just before summer break, my school had
announced that a new management would take over in place of the old head of the school. This
made everything erupt into chaos: parents had their concerns, the students and teachers were
freaking out, and gossip was spreading fast. My mom and I didn’t think the new management
looked promising either. I mean, they literally kicked out our headmaster or so I was told. So we
searched for a new school on a budget. I was going to apply to one of the best international
schools in Bangkok, but tuition was high and we couldn’t afford it. But it didn’t matter anyway,
because by then, the school’s admission periods were too close to prepare. Thus, I continued to
be in the same school. But there was one thing that weighed on me. My parents were considering
sending my brother and I to America. I laughed as I agreed; I had viewed it as a joke at first.
Because that would never happen to me. It’s crazy. But they were genuinely preparing
everything for me to go learn in America next year. It felt like something had slipped through my
fingers—out of my control. Still, I had faith that I would stay because not many things become
successful in my life, so I thought this would be one of those times.
But I was wrong.
As the end of the year was fast approaching, the breath in my chest grew shorter. It felt real, a
little too real. I couldn’t handle it. I was even taking self-defense classes to prepare. One day, I
broke down to my parents. I told them I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t know it at the time, but it
was because I was terrified of losing the people I loved. Who knows how much I would
miss—the moments only alive in time. That was the day I realized that I took things for granted.
I couldn’t imagine my life after Thailand because it was never an option for me in the many
years before.
Was it an ending? A forever goodbye? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was scared.
Three months ago today, I was terrified. My feelings and thoughts were only a whirlpool of
demons living in my head. It only got worse when I only had a few days left with my friends and
family. To help myself, the days building up to the day were filled with my hangouts with my
best friends. It was hard to believe that I wouldn’t be seeing them every day anymore as I had for
the last seven years.
The day of, I woke up with a pain in my chest. It felt like I hadn’t really slept; it was kind of like
you were awaiting your gruesome death if you were my overly dramatic self. My cousins, whom
I were very close to like siblings, were sleeping over in my room that day. I stared at them, rather
fondly, because it may be the last time I ever see them again (for a while). After that, I slowly
did my morning routine when all I could think about was the pain. Inside me, everything around
me seemed really fragile, like if I suddenly moved too quickly then everything would come
crumbling down and disappear into thin air. The home I have lived in since I was born and the
streets I saw every day would be no more in my world.
“This is my ending...” I thought to myself. This was all for my educational journey; to be more
than I was, and it was probably for the best. I needed to go to university in America to fulfill my
dream of pursuing the arts of writing. But on that faithful day, all I could think of was the things
I already had. As I went up the stairs of doom and despair, staring at my best friends who had
come to send me off at the Airport so early in the morning, I had a mix of emotions. Everyone in
my life was so precious to me. My treasures. On those stairs was where I left them behind. It
didn’t feel so worth it when I sat on the plane. Well, I couldn’t express those feelings by crying
anymore. I had drained every last drop the past weeks. And if I did cry, I would have done it
alone this time. I didn’t let anyone see my tears anymore. At least the plane ride felt like it
paused a moment in time for me to breathe.
It was my little brother, my dad, and I on that plane sitting together. But my dad wasn’t coming
to live with me; he still had a job in Thailand. I was to go live with my mom who was already
there. She went there by herself without knowing much English. I commend her. She was like
the strongest person I knew to tackle a wall head-on like that, metaphorically I mean. It was hard.
I had to stop in Japan for a few days before landing in America. While yes, I was distracted for a
while, I also knew that I couldn’t avoid what was going to happen in three days. I enjoyed the
trip while it lasted so that I could spend as much time with my dad. Plus, I felt closer to my home
in Japan since it was only a six-hour flight away. But some nights there felt really hard. The quiet
nights are when your true self emerges from the shadows. It’s when your chaotic thoughts come
to show, but despite that, I also didn’t want to sleep. Wouldn’t that mean time would go faster? I
looked at my brother, he was sleeping soundly. Sometimes I envy him because he always found
a way to put on his ‘rose-colored glasses’ which I later found out was his some sort of facade. In
the end, I succumb to telling myself that, “I should live to the fullest right now.”
I landed in America a few days later. One way to put it was that it was new. Though I’ve been to
America a few times, it was hard to imagine my life here for years to come. The first few weeks
were the toughest days I’ve ever had in my life. Whenever someone from home called, I would
secretly cry while on the phone. I think I’ve mastered the art of silent crying. Nobody could tell.
But sometimes I let my act crack because I missed them so much. One of my family members
started talking about her home-cooked mackerel and omelet rice. It was my favorite food to eat,
and she had always cooked it for me. I started to bawl my eyes out when I started to think about
her food made with love just for me.
Most days I found ways to shut out my thoughts, but some days were harder than others. My
overthinking thoughts are the ones I long for to disappear so that I can stop feeling so bad about
them.
Nowadays, I attend school every day and try to at least enjoy some parts of it. Throughout this
journey I have been through a lot. Some of it all by myself, like talking to others for the first
time. Things had changed a lot. I won’t go into specific details, but I suddenly had to rely on
myself a lot more. But I don’t regret coming here. I would have stayed the same if I hadn’t
moved. The challenges I had to face and the hard moments in life became a part of me that I
never knew I needed. Though there were times I wanted to give up, I knew that if I had given up
now, all those silent tears and efforts might go to waste. Everything that happened had shaped
me into who I am today and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The future is bound to have more
obstacles for me to cross, but I will learn to overcome them, even with all the pressure. There
would be days when times are worse than others, days when I hate myself, but those days would
also have solutions to them. Coming here may be a blessing in disguise, a real chance for me to
accomplish what I really wanted in life and giving up would be like throwing away what others
wished they had. There are many things waiting for me in the future. Opportunities I didn’t have,
and I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t dare to take a risk.
A new beginning to my ending.
To the many versions of myself,
Pasta 2025
“You fail only if you stop writing” — Ray Bradbury
While thinking of what to write, it came to me that my whole life had been one big surprise. So I decided to embark on writing my first personal piece about my life, where it would show people the many sides of myself. Some of my sides are ragged and some hopes to bring comfort to others.