Three weeks…

Just three weeks into this new world and I’ve already seen it all.

Those spiral staircases, huge auditoriums, spacious courtyards. Level one, level two, level three— breathlessness awaits atop the flight of stairs. I rush down the long corridor, down a memorised path, to the fifth classroom on the left. Chatter fills and lingers in the coolness of the air-conditioned room.

They say it takes about eighteen days to get into a habit, but even now, twenty-one days later, everything still feels strange. The unfamiliarity of it all shakes me a little. Even now, the air-conditioned classrooms and cafeteria amaze me. The words “Sir” and “Madam” feel foreign. My conscience holds me back from being myself around people; the invisible barrier of sense restrains me, and I relish in this temporary solitude.

Looking around, I tune into the pre-class conversations and try to join in.

Week one: Fresh impressions, new faces, awkward smiles. You make an overzealous confrontation with someone— anyone— to avoid being alone for the rest of orientation. The experienced ones hang back, chatting coolly with past friends, who’ve tailed us from the previous years. For most, it is a calculated thrust out of one’s comfort zone. No one mentions the previous night, but everyone knows, and understands, how the restless thoughts kept us awake all night long. Then, the Ice breaker games, quick exchanges of Instagram handles – superficial friendships begin. Despite being entirely worn out from every day’s experiences, we create casual conversations, stubbornly refusing to lapse into an awkward silence, as though it alone could sever the precious bonds we made with our new company.

Week two: Habits start to settle, and names become recognizable. However, an underlying guilt emerges, rippling over the newfound tranquillity in our heads: What about them, who’ve been with us through the toughest times? Have we already replaced them with our new peers, forgoing every painstaking memory we shared with those who are now placed kilometres away from us? The inevitable shift in time renders us helpless in the face of strained friendships. Those close enough to us to be regarded as best friends are now shipped off to somewhere entirely new to restart. Just like us. And as more days go by the warmth of their touch, their voice, their presence escapes us, whereby we can only hope to remember the people they had been before.

Week three: New classes, form classes, subject classes. There’s too many to count. By now, starting new conversations with strangers have become almost instinctive. A quick smile, a handshake, a few general questions and congratulations! Welcome a new friend. Surveying the class, you notice the little distinctions that make your classmates individuals. A unique hairstyle, a phone case, a brightly coloured school bag— you realise that those fresh faces, bright eyes and cookie-cutter expressions will soon become faces you’d grow to admire as you begin your journey. Expectations arise and premonitions surface. A brief look into the future, and you see the tear-stained faces, broken hearts, and gritted teeth. The fiery passions, heated disputes, and demoralising defeats come shortly, a tradition passed on for generations. The process is a slow and painful one.

By the end of it all, you will still smile, because at the finish line awaits all those who have been by your side since the very beginning: in these first three weeks.

Lim Jee Kei

6.15