Having to think about a particular picture seems a little difficult for me, but then again, I have a picture that consists of some pictures 🫣. It's from my project defense, and that picture still brings about some memories while making me smile. I had woken up that particular morning feeling nervous and excited at the same time. Anyone who's been in my shoes will definitely understand: I was a final student going to defend his project in a few hours time.
My clothes were ironed, and I decided to dress up from home, and that I did. Immediately I got to school, I met with some of my friends, all looking beautiful and handsome. I stepped into the hall where we all were meant to be. Not long after the defense started, it was not done the way we thought; they kept calling us out randomly. I saw as one of the guys was marked first for his dressing. I checked myself out and felt, at least it's a little better. Just then one of our young lecturers came by, looked at me, and said, "Your dressing is not complete, and you know what it means—it won't attract good marks." I just stood there confused as he whispered to some others, maybe to make some adjustments and all. I was just in my T-shirt and trousers, nothing too much. Just simple.
I hesitated whether to rush home or just see how things go. My place is not far from school, but then again these people aren't following any particular order, just calling us at random. Well, I stepped out and ran home. I picked up my belt, my wristwatch, socks, shoes, and a different T-shirt. I rushed back. Likewise, I was glad I was not called yet, so I moved to the side of the hall near a car and changed. My friend was there hurrying me up. A friend of mine who was done with her own defense used me to laugh and was videoing me and taking pictures as I dressed up. That particular picture now reminds me of the pressure, the rush, and everything.
Behind that particular picture was a pounding heart. I was scared; it was not long after I dressed up that I was called. My legs felt too weak to carry me as I stepped forward. I looked at the crowd before me and then at my seat. My friend winked at me and gestured at me to be calm. I did the best I could; questions were asked, I answered those I could, and I heard, "Well done, you can go." I sighed and left; my friend did hers too, and we met outside later and used each other to laugh while imitating what we both did. The funniest part is, none of us remembered to snap each other as we had said before going in; we didn't remember to capture those tense moments and all. But then, we went back to the side of the hall where I dressed up and took a few pictures together. That picture was proof that I made it through a terrifying moment.
Now, I have another picture. It is a picture that must go with the first one; the first picture wouldn't have been if I hadn't had this. It was proof that I didn't give up when life came at me. If I had given up and dropped out of school then, the first picture wouldn't have been possible. As you can see, I was wearing a black cross bag across my chest, and obviously, it looked normal to anyone. To anyone, it's a normal picture of a student heading to class, but what no one actually knew was that I was fighting and battling with a very serious illness then. My health was challenged, and I almost gave up.
I had undergone some surgeries and was still going to undergo some more. Under that cloth was a pouch on my stomach, a pouch that helps cover some of my surgery sites and something more. I had to use that cross bag so it could be placed directly on the part where the pouch is, because if it was just my cloth on it, it would be obvious something is underneath my cloth. So, to hide it, I would use that bag. I would hug, smile, take pictures, chat with friends, and act normal, but deep down, I was in pain and experiencing something I couldn't share with anyone. That picture holds a lot of things even I don't always remember. And I love the fact that I was alone there; it does explain my life then, as I was not always around people, and I prefer to be alone.
Each time I look at that picture, I see a boy who refused to let go, who didn't give up, who still worked towards his goal even though battling with something much bigger than himself. Those pictures aren't ones I will ever want to lose; they both go hand in hand. They are different pictures, but then again, they are the same, as they best tell my story and school life. My story of survival, growth, and resilience.
All pictures are mine.
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Wow I like you entry thanks for sharing
Thanks for reading.
It is nice work
Keep making progress
Thanks for stopping by.
In all you still had a good school year. You were lucky you were not called wen you went to get your clothes.
Smiles...
Yea ma'am.
Thanks a lot for stopping by.
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You are welcome.
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