Dropped Out at 16

Yeah. The young teenage me struggled a lot at school. The feeling of burnt out, not fitting in with any groups and the struggle to wake up every morning were too hard to ignore.

The young teenage me hated school. And I still hated school. But only because of the education system. Looking back, I realized that the education system in my school had messed up my brain.

My mental health worsen, my emotions were either too stagnant or too unstable. I was struggling to catch up with the studies, that it led me to cutting classes. And because of that, I fell even more behind.

Studies was one thing that was hard for me. The other one was fitting in. I thought I was on the right path, being cheerful and outgoing on the first day of school and being friendly with my classmates.

But what went wrong? Why did I grow even more distant as months passed by? And why did my friends stopped looking at me? Was it me that just couldn't stay in a friendship for very long? To this day, I have no idea.

Teachers noticed my frequent absents. They noticed my participating in classes; which was zero. They reached out to me. But what did I do? Pushed them away.

I stopped every one from coming into my wall. The wall that I put up because I didn't want anyone to see my pain. They would not understand. It's not a pain that they can see. Not even feel.

But somewhere, deep down my heart, I wanted someone to see me. To tell me what was wrong with me. To help me. And so I reached out to counselors. From inside the school and even from outside.

But the young teenage me was still hesitant to be open. And so I treated them the same. I pushed them away.

After I revealed that I would drop out of school, teachers started coming to me, wanting to help me. But I could not feel their sincerity from their words. No matter how much I tried to look into it, I could not see it.

The nonstop pestering of Don't quit school, You're still too young, Just hold on for a little longer, irritated me to the core. That it led me to hate my teachers. I didn't like the sight of their faces, as I recalled their insincere help.

I thought mother would be totally against with me quitting. Considering how she had also dropped out of school when she was 15. I had thought that she would be more strict with me. I had thought that she would advise me to continue my lessons.

But none of that happen. I thought she would have at least a little hope in me. But I guess that all died down when I failed to attend lessons and even my exams.

The day I told her that I wanted to quit, she just replied nonchalantly: Do whatever you want. The young teenage me thought my mother—who gave birth to me—would pay a little bit more attention to her child. But was completely wrong.

I lost count the number of times my pillow had witnessed my silent tears. I lost count the number of times I woke up and would first think I don't wanna get up. It's hard, when no one near you understands your pain.

Ever since the first moment I set my mind to quit school, not once had I ever have a second thought. In fact, I was relieved the moment I signed the papers to indicate that I would no longer be a part of the school. I was free.

Too free.

As I looked back, I could not stop wondering. Did I make the right choice? Or was I in too much of a hurry and did not think things through? Was I happy when I dropped out? I definitely was. Did my happiness last long? It certainly did not.

Sometimes in my mind, I would question myself. If I went back in time, would I make the same decision again? Or would I choose a different route; which meant staying in school till the end? Somehow, I'm always stuck with that dilemma.

A part of me really hated the lifestyle that I had back then. I suffered a lot. But another part of me wanted to experience being a student again. The old tables and chairs, the squeaky sounds of the whiteboard marker, the nonstop chattering of the background as the teacher talks.

Would I reconsider the idea of staying in school till I graduate? Will the pain and suffering be worth it? Will it let me have a better life than right now?

I don't know. But what I know, is I can never go back. Even if I wanted to. Decisions have been made, the past has gone away. Another thing is, I miss studying. But the school is not the only place where you could study—is what I have heard.

Maybe the sixteen year old me did make a reckless decision. Maybe I really did not think things through. And maybe I did regret doing it but was too narrow-minded to notice and acknowledge it.

But right now, with every effort, I tried the best that I can to redeem myself. Slowly and steadily. I was not always happy after I dropped out. But I was already free from the tight strings of the school that had always been pulling and hurting me.

I cannot say for sure if I am already in a better place than before. But what I can say, is that my wellbeing has been better and healthier. Instead of moping over the past, I guess I have to start accepting it as it is. It happened already. There is nothing I can do about it.

What I can do, is move forward and never look back. The sixteen year old me suffered. And now the nineteen year old me will do my best to live a life we've always wanted.