It was very apparent that albeit slowly, the city, her job were slowly draining her of her life force, her days got bleaker, and day after day, she walked the coarse roads to reach her job, to provide for me, to care for her house, to support herself. I was young and sometimes bewildered on the way of the world, but I was aware and never did I dream that I would one day look at my mother and not recognize her. 

 

The sound of rain as droplets sheltered the dainty glass window, Clouds as dark as night completely engulfed the skies, The traffic around the corner. This being the sight I woke up to, my eyes quickly glanced around the room to look for comfort, I was angry, how could my mother leave me at a time where I needed her most, oblivious, I shrunk under the blanket and closed my eyes.

 

My senses quickly adjusted to the environment I was in, the minutes seemed like endless hours, but I had finally mustered enough courage to reveal myself and remove the covers. I waited for hours, my eyes were completely engrossed on the clock, alone and with my thoughts, I refused to look away. The hands of the clock kept turning, and with every passing hour, the anger that resided within me would grow. 

 

Sitting there brooding, I felt hopeless, helpless and distraught. Suddenly, I could hear it, the key entering the keyhole, and as the key turned, I could hear the dilapidated door creak. I committed completely to focusing on that moment, feeling exasperated and joyful at the same time, the wait was exhaustive, but I would stay in my place waiting for my mother to walk through the door and into my room. 

 

Slowly the door opened, then shut, but this was different, her footsteps, heavy, like pillars would pierce through the ground, and the thudding was only getting louder the closer to my room my mother travelled. 

 

As my door swung open, I looked into my mother’s eyes, a look that would capture my attention like never before, a glance that would haunt me, motivate me, scare me, and create a part of me that would forever live within me. 

 

Her limpid and flushed expression. Her eyes red with exhaustion, her clothes wet from the cold rivulet chill of the rain, her body ever so slightly fluttering from the cold that had engulfed her. The smell of sweat. For the second that she had allowed for her true self to appear, I could not recognize her. 

 

As she looked into my eyes, she drew a smile on her face, she walked towards me to hold me and comfort me. In awe I stayed silent, she raised herself, and walked out of the room. I sat in complete silence, eyes back on the clock, I had hoped time would stop, possibly even travel backwards, for the plight that is blindness would have been mercy at the hands of such a sight. 

Years later, and as time makes one wise, I could only hope to never to forget this memory. The memory representing my mother in her true form, a bona fide work ethic, boundless power, and dedication in its purest of meaning. 

That’s the thing about this city. Life is still going on even in the places we fail to notice, from a shop owner manning his stall to a tiny patch of plants worming their fresh green heads out of a crack in the sidewalk. As I stood in line, waiting to order, I found myself zoning out of the hustle and bustle around me and into the more subtle facets of my surroundings.

Most people perceive life as something loud and boisterous, but life can be quiet and out of sight too, I thought to myself. It was pretty hot outside but the air-conditioning inside the restaurant prevented me from sweating too much under my mask. 

I continued to shuffle forward every five minutes or so, but I wasn’t really mentally present. My mind had drifted off to wondering about the passers-by. There’s a word that I like called ‘sonder’, which refers to the realization that every single person we come across has a life as complex as our own. My friend dubbed it ‘anti-main character syndrome’.

It was finally my turn to order. After reciting my pre-rehearsed lines (“One green chicken curry rice, one fried pork neck rice with extra chili and two Thai milk teas please,”) and paying, I stepped aside and waited for my order. The man before me got his order and walked off, and once again I found myself wondering, He ordered for more than one, so is he going back to his family? The office? Does he like his job? Maybe he volunteered to buy lunch because he wanted to get out of the house. 

My train of thought was starting to go slightly off the rails, as per usual. Luckily, my number was called and I hurriedly went to pick up my order. With a nod of thanks, I walked off to the pick-up point my mom and I had agreed on beforehand. 

Hot, my brain supplied uselessly. I sighed and cringed at the feeling of humid air caught between my doubled-up masks. Despite never having lived in another country for longer than two weeks, I found myself craving the chilliness of Australia’s autumn months and the gloomy overcast skies that were the norm in London. However, after a minute or two of glancing at the people in the hawker center in front of me who were working amongst fire and steam with masks on themselves, I decided that I had it easy and silently hoped that the weather would cool down for their sake.

From the moment I stepped out of the Thai restaurant, I knew I was feeling a little uneasy but couldn’t put a finger on exactly what it was. It was only when I was about five minutes away from the restaurant that my mind fully digested and spat out the sinking feeling of forgetting something.

With a pang, I realized that I had left my wallet on the pick-up counter of the restaurant.

I sighed heavily again and turned to make my walk of shame back to the restaurant. When I turned around, though, I noticed someone waving and calling out in Chinese, “Miss!” 

A young woman dressed in the uniform of the Thai restaurant came running toward me with my wallet in hand. “You left this on the counter.”

I thanked her profusely and fumbled to get a five ringgit note out of my wallet to properly tip her, but she was already rushing back to work. I tucked my wallet securely in my pocket and started speed-walking toward the pick-up point.

I entered my mom’s car and silently marveled at how the world works. For the waitress, it might have been a forgettable incident in her bustling day, but for me it was lucky that she even noticed at all.  

I looked out of the window as dark clouds started to paint the skies. 

Life really is always going on.

(654 words)

When Subang Jaya was just a mere town in the Petaling district, it was still one of the most active and lively towns in the state with bustling streets, loud chatter in the air, and the constant struggle of looking for parking. Despite it all, I would still find myself at one of many mamaks at 2 AM or waiting in line for Boba in SS15 surrounded by friends. Not once would you see me back home any time before midnight, and that was just the lifestyle. Being out till the crack of dawn was normal. Kuala Lumpur may have been the city that never sleeps, but Subang Jaya was the town that never sleeps. 

Granted, all of this was pre-covid. Since then, things were never been quite the same. I could actually find parking easily since Covid struct.

Once the town was established as a city under a year ago, the people of Subang celebrated as if a war had just been won. “Finally” was one of the common words that came out of people’s mouths. Finally happy to see signages change from MPSJ to MBSJ. Finally recognised as a city that should have been years ago. There was never a need to leave Subang as almost everything was nearby; malls within proximity of each other, gas stations at almost every 2km, infinite food options, and many more. 

Without fail, almost everyone who lives and is from here is proud to be here. It is as simple as taking pride in those who are from here. For those residing in Subang, Yuna is not just a well-known international Malaysian artist; she is one of us. The way local Subang Jaya rapper, Joe Flizzo, talked about how Subang kids were stylish was all you could hear being talked about, maybe even up till this day. It may seem like there is a superiority complex found within the residents here, but as I said, it is pride. You will never see kids from other cities defend their cities the way Subang kids defend Subang. 

It is also a place where almost everybody knows each other since it is such a tight-knit community. With that, it makes me wonder how small the world is to where I could be talking to a friend from Sri Hartamas and hear a specific name and instantly know they are from Subang. The number of friends I have from high school who ended up befriending or even dating my other friends from different school shows how life here can be a little inescapable. It can be rather daunting, however, if I am being completely honest.

As nice as it all may sound, I was one of the very few that actually wanted to get out of this city. I still do sometimes. Yes, there is comfort being in a city where, for the most part, I have grown up in, and all things seem familiar, but I do not want to be limited to what there is around me. I desire to be in a different city where things are new and different. Where I could walk around a mall and not have to think about bumping into familiar faces. I desire a breath of fresh air.

Despite how I feel, there really is not much to complain about living here. I definitely had my fun here with those around me; most of my fondest memories occurred here. Maybe one day I will leave Subang, and regardless, I know I can always come back and find my place here, but until then, Subang Jaya will always be my home. Like I said before, you could take someone out of Subang Jaya, but you could never take Subang Jaya out of them.

Other than being known for having a ridiculous amount of roundabouts, it really is not that outstanding. It is not as bustling and exciting as the capital, Kuala Lumpur, nor is it as trendy and artsy as other cities such as Petaling Jaya, and it surely isn’t known for being the epicentre of bubble tea like in Subang Jaya. 

But, honestly, as someone who has lived in this city my whole life, I am here to tell you it is not as bad as people make it out to be. I mean sure, it is a little boring and the inconvenience of finding varieties for food is a bit frustrating at times. However, looking at the bright side, Shah Alam is also a serene and peaceful city to live in. In replacement for the lack of entertainment, you’ll get spaciousness and an abundance of natural landscapes in return. 

My friends who live in more lively cities would often make fun of me for living in Shah Alam. They would say it's “ulu”, which is a term for a place that is remote and far off. Despite all the slander about this city for being boring, I would still much rather come home to a peaceful and quiet environment after a hectic day to wind down and relax rather than being in the same busy and restless atmosphere throughout the day.

My defensive behaviour towards any insult to this city does not just stem from my appreciation of its serenity and peacefulness though, truth to be told, it probably has more to do with the fact that Shah Alam is where home is to me. This is the place where I have spent the most formidable years of my childhood in. 

Growing up here, I have come to attach many of my fondest memories to this city. I think of the park right behind my house where I have spent many evenings in and the friends that I have made there which happens to be my earliest friendships in childhood. There is also the football field across my house where I have watched all the boys play in, drenching in sweat and kicking about in the hot afternoon sun, meanwhile developing crushes on them secretly. 

It is also the people here. There are so many people whom I have met living in this city that I hold dear to me. People who I call my friends and family. They play a significant role in my life and I cannot imagine my life without them. It is memories like these and the attachment to such people that make me so protective of this city. 

A huge part of my life has taken place right here in this city. The city I call home. The city with all the memories I cherish. All the events in my life that have taken place here played an important part in shaping me into the person that I am today. 

Even though this city may not be considered remarkable to many and could have easily been forgotten by most people, however, to me, it will always hold a special place in my heart.
 
(612 words)

In the business sector, Jakarta also provides massive opportunities for people who want to start their business, from small to big businesses. Jakarta is the center for Indonesia’s business sectors, where all big companies from around the world also have their offices here. Jakarta is home of culinary, automotive and financial businesses. Some businesses also come from other provinces and use the Jakarta Metropolitan Area as their targeted market. In the future, I have a dream to start my own business in this city as well, hopefully I will get the opportunity to succeed. Which this city has always given to its citizens. 

In academics, Jakarta also has the most favorite and prestigious Universities in the country. Students from other provinces come to this city to achieve their academic dreams. In the context of ranking, these universities always stand on top rank in Southeast Asia. Some of the students who study there are from other countries as well, for example East Timor, Palestine, Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan.

That is why so many people are willing to leave their homeland and go to this city, from students, workers and businessmen. Because of how this city always provides opportunities for them, Jakarta is like New York and Washington DC combined. If we talk about opportunity, this city also has opportunities which not only offer to the people, but also to many things. For example, to the development of cultures which is a vital identity for all Indonesian. When we talk about movement, those who are moving from their hometown and villages to Jakarta, obviously brought their culture as well. Such as Javanese and Sundanese, which dominate the population of Jakarta, but other cultures also brought their influence to this city that creates a diversity. These diversities developed across generations, which is shape Jakarta looks today and its people.

This diversity also influences other aspects in Jakarta, for example creativity and you will find a variety of creativities here. Such as in the food sector, where you will find food or drinks that have mixtures of two different cusines. For example, Javanese Fried Mie which has a mix of Chinese influence and the Javanese style spices. Then there is Croquettes (French) or Bitterballen (Dutch), which is influenced by a local taste, because Indonesia was theirs former colony in the past. These are just some good examples of how diverse Jakarta is today, because so many people came here hundreds of years ago not only from different ethnic but from different nations. Today these foods also have a modern influence, which add more layers of creativity and are more delicious. This also creates more opportunities for young generations as I have seen today. Because this kind of creativity has a large market here in Jakarta, people are looking for it. I used these terms as examples, because opportunities can be obtained in any way and anywhere forever.

(664 words)

It’s the amount of blood that makes the strongest of stomachs churn. You can’t compare the theatrical blood you witness in cinematic performances. You’re witnessing a new shade of red, an obscure dense ooze. The smell of iron, like rusty coins in a forgotten chest filled the room. The sight, the smell, it snaps my disoriented mind into fight or flight — as though I was witnessing the episode from a third person. Only then was I well aware of my dire consequences.

I can’t believe this is it. Am I going to go like this? Who’s going to find me? Ian, your family, not even a goodbye?

If only I had someone who asked, “How are you?” I’ll never know if it would have not prompted me to self-harm but I would have known that I wasn't alone; Not alone in a world with 7.9 billion individuals roaming about. If you saw me on the street, you never would have guessed how numb I had become. It’s like fungus growing internally, a cancer spreading death to my chest.

The ride to the emergency ward was a blur. I only remember crouching, almost begging at the hospital counter, asking for someone to stitch me up so I could return home. I must admit that a lot of the events that took place on that day have been wiped from memory — the brain alleviating itself of traumatic pain. 

The attendant stitched my wrist with a polypropylene suture, a thin blue strip of plastic to seal the cut. I was genuinely at a place of ease as the needle punctured it’s permanent placement on my wrist. To feel, to sense, to experience pain once more, it’s something that makes me feel human again. 

The sutures were a mere 15-minute procedure, however the attending physician’s deliberation of debating desperate decisions felt drawn out in time. My worst day spiralled into my worst week when the conclusion was that I must admit myself for intensive care. The consensus was Bipolar Disorder. 

It must have been hours in the consultation room. My sight of the scorching sun’s rays shifted to tranquil silence when I was wheeled to my assigned bed — the maze that is the University of Malaya Medical Centre. Beds that surrounded mine were occupied by distraught hollow shells of men alike. A fellow patient seeking refuge under his blanket revealed himself and glanced at my direction. He gestured over asking for food, or a cigarette; I couldn’t tell which but I didn’t have any either.

Dinner was due shortly, a classic combination of tasteless mains, fruits, and dessert accompanied with two water cups — I can’t complain. The nurses made the mistake of not taking the hard plastic straws that came from the water cups away from me after dinner. It was the type of straw that was thicker than the usual straw you find at cafes and restaurants. It was the type of straw with a sharp pointed end used to puncture the plastic sealing of a water cup.

I spent my first night inconspicuously wedging the straw in between my sutures and into my cut wrist to inflict pain. Half of the sutures were ripped off before one of the nurses became suspicious. Consequently, for precaution the nurse stitched my wound with a thicker nylon suture. I suspect she was displeased with my actions, and how I was probably bothering her night. Resulting in a ruthless manner of suture handiwork. 

Once again, I can’t complain, she sent me to my happy place with each suture pierced. 

There might be a chance these events would never have taken place if one individual, one out of 7.9 billion, had asked if I was coping well. How could you possibly know out of a line-up of 10 individuals, which individual is on the verge of ending their life? What if this were to happen to someone in your life? Your family, friends, acquaintances, neighbours, anyone you know is at risk of mental health illnesses. Take the time to reach out, the future of mental health awareness holds promising potential. 

(730)

It is not as bustling and exciting as the capital, Kuala Lumpur, nor is it as trendy and artsy as other cities such as Petaling Jaya, and it surely isn’t known for being the epicentre of gastronomy like in Subang Jaya. 

Perhaps the most exceptional thing about this city is its claim to fame for being known as the “city of roundabouts”. Did you know that Shah Alam alone has 18 roundabouts spread throughout, connecting major road arteries from section 1 to section 25? This city certainly lives up to its label. It is crazy just thinking about how many roundabouts I have had to go through while living in Shah Alam my whole life. 

But, honestly, as someone who has lived in this city my whole life, I am here to tell you it is not as bad as people make it out to be. I mean sure, it is a little boring and the inconvenience of finding varieties for food is a bit frustrating at times. However, looking at the bright side, Shah Alam is also a serene and peaceful city to live in. In replacement for the lack of entertainment, you’ll get spaciousness and an abundance of natural landscapes in return. 

My friends who live in more lively cities would often make fun of me for living in Shah Alam. They would say it's “ulu”, which is a term for a place that is remote and far off. Despite all the slander about this city for being boring, I would still much rather come home to a peaceful and quiet environment after a hectic day to wind down and relax rather than being in the same busy and restless atmosphere throughout the day.

My defensive behaviour towards any insult to this city does not just stem from my appreciation of its serenity and peacefulness though, truth be told, it probably has more to do with the fact that Shah Alam is where home is to me. This is the place where I have spent the most formidable years of my childhood in. 

Growing up here, I have come to attach many of my fondest memories to this city. I think of the park right behind my house where I have spent many evenings in and the friends that I have made there which happens to be my earliest friendships in childhood. There is also the football field across my house where I have watched all the boys play in, drenching in sweat and kicking about in the hot afternoon sun, meanwhile developing crushes on them secretly. 

Reminiscing childhood memories like these bring me back to the day where I have met my life-long best friends. Rachel and Sathya. They lived in the same neighbourhood as me and coincidentally all three of us happened to be of the same age. 

It was 10 years ago when we first met. We were 10. I met them when I was playing alone in the park right behind my house one evening. I was running around and somehow I tripped and fell. It was a pretty bad fall and it hurt a lot. As I was picking myself up, I saw this girl around my age with dark hair and pale skin came running towards me. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she asked. 

She reached out her hand for me to grab hold of it and helped me up. “I think you need to disinfect your wound. Where do you live? I’ll help you get back,” she offered.

Being the shy kid that I was, I did not say much other than “thank you”.

When I was showing her the directions to my house, I heard another girl yell “Rachel!”. I turned around and saw this girl in a pink shirt and blue denim shorts running towards us.

“Where are you guys going? And what happened to her knee? Did she fall?” she pointed at my knee and asked all at once.

“Yeah, she did and I’m helping her get home to disinfect her wound,” said Rachel. 

She turned to me. “Oh, this is Sathya by the way. She lives a few rows back,” 

She then seemed like she remembered something. “Right, I forgot to ask for your name. What’s your name?” 

“I’m Jeayi,” I told them quietly.

“Oh, cute name! I love it!” exclaimed Sathya.

She then looked at me with a bright smile. “Can I come along with you guys?” she pleaded.

I nodded my head and I showed them the way to my house. Ever since that day, we have become friends and we have become inseparable since. 

So yes, that was how I met two of my best friends whom I still am friends with today. Growing up, I have always been a shy and quiet kid. I was introverted and was always too timid to make any friends. I did not have a lot of friends in school nor did I have any friends around the neighbourhood. I was pretty much alone most of the time, so, meeting them at the time actually brought a lot of significant changes to my life. I started to come out of my shell and be more friendly and talkative which helped me a lot in my social life in the years to come. 

It is people like them whom I have met living in this city that I hold dear to me. People who I call my friends and family. They play a significant role in my life and I cannot imagine my life without them. It is memories like these and the attachment to such people that make me so protective of this city. 

A huge part of my life has taken place right here in this city. The city I call home. The city with all the memories I cherish. All the events in my life that have taken place here played an important part in shaping me into the person that I am today. 

Even though this city may not be considered remarkable to many and could have easily been forgotten by most people, however, to me, it will always hold a special place in my heart.

(1130 words)