Fractured Reflections

The recess bell rings and the hallways gradually fill with the usual, loud chatter and laughter. Without hesitation, I  push open the heavy glass door that leads to my most well known comfort zone. I feel the warm air envelope my body as I step onto the beige carpeted floor, the familiar, light scent of vanilla, almonds, and book pages gently wafting around me. The silence is comforting. Apart from the quiet flipping of books every minute or two, it was completely soundless. I take a deep breath and pause for a moment to let this familiar feeling sink deep beneath my skin. 

This is my favourite place to spend my lunch breaks, especially during the assessment seasons. In less than two weeks, the first school semester would be over, and the Chinese New Year holiday would begin. All I need to do before then is push through all my exams and achieve the best that I can. The holiday would be worth so much more to me if I felt that I truly earned the break. My friends may see this as meaningless, but it has all the value to me. 

Ever since I can remember, my parents have long told me about living the perfect life in the future. I must study hard to achieve my dreams. I must build the perfect foundation right now in my teenage years before it’s too late. I must give it my all and I simply cannot let go. So how can I let myself relax during break times when I have an entire future lying right in front of me, waiting to be achieved?

Sauntering through the aisles of neatly-stacked bookshelves, I slowly make my way to the small desk at the inner corner of the library. I silently pull out the chair and set out my books and laptop on the table. Beside me is a shelf filled with dozens of old history books. Nobody comes to read them at all, and they have been sitting on the shelf collecting dust since my middle school years. But despite being the least popular corner, it’s also the most quiet one. And I see it as the perfect place to focus on my individual work. 

One afternoon, I made my way to my same, comfy corner. We had just completed our final mathematics assessment for this semester, and I felt a mix of relief and anticipation. The weight of pressure had been lifted from my shoulders, leaving a sense of freedom that was almost intoxicating.

To my left, I saw a boy sitting with his headphones on, face buried in a book. This corner is almost always empty, and I was surprised to see someone else besides my own dull reflection in the grey-tinted window. His expression was serious, yet calm. For a moment, I watched as his eyes steadily moved from one line to the next, his engagement obvious through the subtle enlargement and movements of his pupils. A true book-lover. His face somehow seemed familiar to me, and I thought back to the previous days. I realised, I might have seen him a couple of times earlier this week, sat at the exact same spot, one empty desk away from mine. 

I rarely noticed other people in the library. In this book sanctuary, all that mattered to me were the astounding romantasy stories, and whatever facts and equations that lied within my textbooks. But there was just something about him that had managed to catch my attention, even among the towering shelves of books that surrounded us. Perhaps it was the way his dark brown eyes stared deep into the words on his pages, absorbing every wonder the book had to offer. I doubt that I looked even half as graceful as him when I read. Maybe it was the way his slender yet strong hands firmly secured the book a perfect distance away from his face. But no, that could not be it. His presence made me feel differently, and it seemed to remind me of something. 

Someone, perhaps. 

He slowly turned towards me, as if he knew for a long while that I had been standing there, and I realise I had been staring for way longer than I intended to. Our eyes met, and I felt the warmth rush to my cheeks. I immediately averted my gaze, and mindlessly rearranged my books. It really is absurd, how a fleeting glance exchanged between two strangers could affect me so much. 

 “Sor-” I had wanted to quickly apologize, in case I made him feel uncomfortable. But what if my voice cracks? Even worse, what if he ignores me? My thoughts silenced my mouth, and that one word remained unsaid, sitting uncomfortably at the top of my throat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw his hand reach up to adjust his glasses, before the soft sound of a page turning broke the silence. My mind was still processing everything that just transpired. He had caught me off-guard, and I was too startled to catch even a bit of his expression during the short moment when his eyes had settled on mine. 

Was he bewildered, or has that moment already been brushed off his mind, like a tiny speck of dust? I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt this same inexplicable tension hanging in the air between us. As I immersed myself in my assignments once again, I fought the urge to look back. I could tell that my face was still fully flustered, and I did not want to embarrass myself a second time. Usually, nothing was there to distract me, and the fact that my mind had suddenly gotten so engrossed in one person that day annoyed me. 

I tried my best to flood my brain with math formulas, hoping it would wash away all the mixed emotions that clung stubbornly to my busy brain.

Each day, I immersed myself in my studies during lunch, often missing out on the laughter and gossip that spread amongst my friend group. But even that was not enough. My late-night study sessions became a daily habit, and I kept finding myself repeatedly going to bed way past midnight. 

This growing weight of exhaustion clung onto my shoulders so tightly, a permanent reminder of my relentless pursuit to thrive, and be the best possible version of myself at all times.

Throughout each passing day, my bed was the only place where I could trust myself to let all my true feelings come pouring out. It felt as if my mind was a waterfall ripe with unimaginable thoughts that I had held in and neglected for the entire day. As I laid there, the weight of unspoken anxiety and dreams began to take over my mind.

Even I was amazed just thinking about who I really was deep down. 

My life felt like a loop. A sequence that would keep repeating for as far into the future as I could see. The smiles at school, the bubbly voices and cheerful laughs, the graceful goodbyes, the pile of work, and the tears on my pillow. I knew that in the morning, I was going to wake up just like I did the day before, bravely facing the world — my parents, teachers, classmates, and friends. They saw me as the happy, positive girl who always smiles, and they always will.

***

One fateful day during lunch, I rushed to the library, arms overloaded with books. They had just arrived yesterday, and I was determined to finish all my assignments to make time for reading. The excitement blinded me, and I bumped into a bookshelf, clumsily dropping my pile on the carpet.

As I reached down to pick up the first book, a voice broke through my flustered thoughts. “Hey, I’m Matthew, need a hand?” I look up and realise that it is the same person I once locked eyes with, a senior one year older than me. He was everything I aspired to be—athletic, academically gifted, and effortlessly friendly.

As we picked up my books together, I felt an unexpected warmth in his presence. He didn’t just help. He engaged me in conversation, asking about my passions and interests. We ended up texting each other every day, sharing thoughts and experiences that went far beyond the surface. 

Matthew listened with a sincerity I had never encountered before. 

He never rushed me on expressing any feelings that I could not quite explain. He offered advice on sports, friendship, and things about myself that I had long neglected. He encouraged me to join a local running club, suggesting it might help clear my mind and relieve stress. Unlike my other friends who often brushed off my worries, he took the time to untangle my struggles beside me.

As our friendship blossomed, I found myself opening up to him about my fears and insecurities that I had never spoken of. He shared his own experiences of feeling overwhelmed, revealing that even he himself struggled with the pressure to excel. His honesty helped me realise that I wasn’t alone in my feelings of inadequacy. With each conversation we held, I admired him even more—not just for his accomplishments but for his genuine desire to help me improve myself.

Two months passed, filled with late-night chats, laughter, and heart-to-heart talks with Matthew. Yet, I still felt a weight tugging at my heart. I often found myself awake at midnight, wishing to erase regrets, and never feeling good enough.

It was during one of our night time conversations when Matthew said something that echoed deep within me. I remember how sympathetic he looked as his sweet and mellifluous voice gently comforted me “You know, It’s okay not to have everything figured out yet. You just need to focus on what’s important to you right now.” His words hung in the air, heavy with truth. I realised then that the “perfect” life I had been chasing never existed. Was it possible that everything had just been an illusion?

With his encouragement, I learned to embrace my imperfections and focus on the present. I adjusted my study schedule, and focused on efficiency rather than endless hours of work. I made time for sports, and realised how stress relieving it can be. I also began to nurture my friendships, inviting my friends to join me in my running or study sessions.

As my life balanced out, my bond with Matthew too deepened. We shared more than just academic tips. We explored our dreams and fears, supporting each other through the ups and downs of high school life. Whether it was the loss of a friendship or the celebration of a new sports personal best, we felt comfortable sharing our thoughts with each other. With his influence, I learned to prioritize what mattered—my happiness and well-being over an unattainable ideal.

 I was no longer defined by my grades or achievements but by my resilience, pliability and connection with the people in my life.

***

Stepping into the library one Monday afternoon,  the air around me feels lighter, and the room seems to have lightened up. I understand now that it is completely fine to be a work in progress, and in that acceptance, I finally feel free.