Retrospection
ALIA ALGHURAIR
Illustration by Tala Abdulhadi (@catladydoodles/)
I’ve always craved new beginnings; the start of a new year, a new month, or even a new day. As I come closer to the day I graduate high school, I can’t help but succumb to a fear of losing my sense of familiarity and comfort, although I’m going to start afresh in university. I use this time to reflect on the past two years in a new school, the relationships I formed, and the things I learned academically and emotionally.
When I first transferred to my new (current) school, I felt a burst of unprecedented ecstasy: to start over in a place where I knew nobody, and best of all, a place where nobody knew me. Frankly, that feeling was unmatched, but, like many other things in life, it was only temporary, as new things eventually turn old.
My mum walked me through my first day, as she does almost every academic year, no matter how old I am. I vividly remember her trying to get me to talk to people and make friends, she even pulled a girl aside and told her to take care of me. I found that very thoughtful of my mum, although quite embarrassing on my behalf. I was sixteen years old at the time, and I relied on my mum to help me make my first friend.
Now, as I near the age of eighteen, I’m not any different. I love making new friends, but I never put in the conscious effort into doing so. Because of this, many of my friendships haven’t lasted, but I adapted to such. I always rely on others to make the first, second, or even third move until I am comfortable enough to make my own, but people aren’t usually patient enough to wait.
When it comes to the relationships I have with people and my relationship with life in general, I’ve always been the sentimental type despite being surrounded by the superficialities of a materialistic lifestyle. I keep nearly every note that was passed to me in lessons stored in a box under my bed, and I like to replay the sounds of my classmates’ and teachers’ laughter in my head.
One of the significant lessons I’ve learned is the extent of my sentimentality and attachment, but also my detachment and dissociation from everyone and everything around me. Sometimes, I like to describe my feelings in pairs, lying on opposite sides of the spectrum, and because of that, I’ve lately been feeling neutral and numb.
This feeling of emptiness and carelessness started in February of this year and has lasted ever since. Although I can fathom its root cause, I cannot seem to rid myself of it. Just like how I never put effort into forming friendships, I never put effort into compartmentalizing my emotions. I always go with the flow of life, and my feelings never really caused a major hindrance to the life I lead. However, it manifested into a drained, nonchalant attitude.
Academically, I have never been so motivated. I spent most of my time revising for my upcoming exams. As I edited this essay in April, I received news that my final exams were cancelled by the Ministry of Education. Although I finally began to understand the quadratic formula, among many other things, I can’t help but feel as though all my academic effort was for naught. The intellectual stimulus I got from studying was a distraction from my emotional exhaustion, and now, although April was very good to me, I can feel February’s ugly emotions come rushing back just in time for my birth month, May.
I started off May with a shooting star that I witnessed with my best friend while we were on our way to our favorite cafeteria. “Did you just see that?” she said to me.
“Yes, was that a firework?” I responded, as I never knew what a shooting star looked like.
“No, I’ve seen shooting stars before, and that was definitely one.”
I felt so serene and mesmerized that I forgot to make a wish. Looking back, I would have wished for stability, or perhaps a pink mini Birkin. As soon as I arrived home, I wrote about that shooting star. I found that sharing my experiences on paper has helped me to navigate my emotions better, and yet, ironically, those same emotions are taking me on a lonesome journey, and into young adulthood, I go.
Alia AlGhurair (aliaalghurair on Instagram) is a 18-year-old writer-in-the-making and economist-to-be from Dubai. When her nose is not immersed in a classic novel; when her fingers are not covered in blisters from the tight grip of her pen; and when her ears are not sore from the pounding of romantic 20th century Arabic songs; she is most likely to be found questioning her profound identity, playing a video game, or designing mkhaweer.
Edited by Halima Zaghbib