From Shadows to Light

I, Gizem, was a good student, a well-behaved girl, and an obedient daughter, far removed from all the evil habits. A simple girl always lost in her delusional world, surrounded by my loved ones, I was enchanting, shy, timid, introverted, soft-hearted, and delightfully cheerful. I always had a smile on my face. My pet name was Little Rabbit because my teeth resembled those of a rabbit.

Jasmeen, my darling, was a girl with brown hair and cheeks as red as an apple. An angel who made my life feel like Eden, she was my soul sister. It felt as if we were two halves of a whole, though different women gave us birth. She was my childhood friend, and we used to go everywhere side by side.

Everything was pleasant until I turned 16. I fell in love with a boy just a few months older than me. He had twinkling grey eyes, black hair, and impressive facial expressions. If anyone looked at him through my eyes, he was perfect from head to toe. He was physically attractive, but it was his nature that melted my inner soul.

As the days passed, my feelings for him did not fade. Being an introvert, I was scared to share how I felt. Jasmeen voiced my feelings for me. He took weeks to respond, but when he finally said yes, I could hardly believe it. I rolled on my bed with joy.

We chatted endlessly, sharing everything, and he became my favorite person. Hours felt like mere seconds. I felt incomplete without him. After three wonderful years together, things began to change. He was not the same person I had once loved. We fought over minor things, matters I didn’t even value. It all came to an end. I didn’t want it to finish this way, but life doesn’t always go according to plan.

Now, I was not the girl I used to be. The smile that once graced my face had turned to tears. Nothing brought me joy like before. That one person had changed me inside and out. I became distracted, rude, and started treating everyone in my life as if they had no value. All I craved was him. I thought losing him was the worst thing that could happen to me, but little did I know what else awaited.

Everyone was distraught for me, yet no one knew what had transpired, except for Jasmeen, who became a bandage for my wounds. I saw myself as useless, but she gave me thousands of reasons to love myself. My education suffered; the girl who once scored excellent marks was now just an average student. My parents were disappointed. I tried to reclaim my former self, but I failed. I labelled myself a failure.

One day, my family decided to go for a long drive. I felt a little relief; it had been ages since we had gone somewhere together. I sat by the window, staring at the moon and marveling at its beauty. The weather was lovely, with a light drizzle. As I moved from side to side, I noticed a scintillating light approaching our vehicle. Suddenly, a truck collided with us. Our car spun, glass shattered, and blood mixed with the rainwater. The shrieks—I still remember how horrendous that moment was. A blood-curdling scream. I recall the moment I faced demise. I barely managed to escape the car. The faces that once made me smile now filled me with fear. I did everything I could to make them get up.

I lost myself in thought about what had happened two days ago, covering my face with my legs. My whole world had flipped. All I could see was myself standing in a pitch-black space. Everyone treated me like a stranger. Their behavior tore me apart. I had a thousand questions, but no one was there to answer them. I felt empty. I cried until there were no tears left. What else could I do? A lonely soul without purpose, I grew weaker and more exhausted.

A puff of wind brushed through the window where I sat on a wooden chair. I heard a voice. I had heard that voice before, but I couldn’t quite recall it. “My lovely child, are you tired? Come here and let me comb your hair. I know it’s hard for you to do this alone, but you are my brave girl. You’ve been given a new life; don’t waste it. Always remember, cowards are not humans. You are not alone; I am watching over you from the sky.” I suddenly woke up. Huh, it was a dream, but I found motivation and reasons to rise again.

I promised myself to start anew, no matter how many times I stumbled. The next day, I ventured outside the confines of my home. I secured a job that provided me with enough to live. I continued my education as well. Meeting new people brought me some relief. My job involved delivering parcels, and I tried various roles because I always longed to do something different, no matter how easy or hard.

Years passed, but the wounds in my heart remained. They also made me stronger. I completed my college education and faced different struggles. I changed jobs, but nothing truly satisfied me. I lacked someone to share my routine or my feelings with, so I took to drawing. Every evening, I would pick up a pen and paper, sketching what my inner self felt.

I am a messy person; I dislike cleaning or doing house chores. I rarely cook. Living alone means no one is around to remind me to do these things. Over the years, I met many people, and hearing their stories made me realise I wasn’t alone in my struggles. Many faced far greater challenges than I did. In those moments, I felt blessed. Thank goodness I was physically fit and had enough to survive. I once read somewhere that a person living without a purpose is akin to an animal.

Since then, I’ve pondered it, but I couldn’t discern any clear goals. I knew only one thing: I wanted to do something different. Contemplating various aspirations often left my mind in a fog, and in the end, I would simply go to sleep. I was a teenager who flowed with life, unaware of where it would take her.

One day, the thought struck me that perhaps I could become an artist, so I began to draw and shared my work on social media. Initially, only a few people engaged with it, but gradually, more and more began to appreciate it. After a few months of hard work, I received an unexpected call. It was from a well-known company in my city that published comic books. They wanted me to join them as a character sketch artist for their new publications.

BOOM! I jumped from my chair. I questioned my capabilities—was I truly worthy? Yet, part of me wondered if it was a prank. The voice on the other end reassured me. I collaborated with the instructor to bring their book to life. Once the comic was released, people recognized my work, and they wanted me to create more. I finally understood which path I needed to take.

I made my first move as an artist and submitted my sketches to art galleries in the city. I worked tirelessly to realise my dreams. Often, I contemplated giving up, but I would slap myself and argue with my inner self: if I started something, I must see it through, regardless of the outcome.

Now, I am no longer a teenage girl; I am a 27-year-old independent woman and an artist with fans all over the world who express their love through messages and gifts, purchasing my artwork. I have garnered a substantial following. I am no longer an unknown figure. Everything has transformed. The past no longer haunts me; instead, I view it as a lesson learned.

The public knows me by the name “Mystery,” which is the meaning of my name. I use this pseudonym as I navigate my artistic journey. Looking back, my life was a mystery I had to unravel to discover my inner self and the hidden abilities within me. I’m still doing well. I know I have achieved what I fought for, but I still have many more things to explore.