My weirdest days

It was a weird day.

Nothing had gone the way I wanted it to. The hours passed strangely, as if the entire day had been wrapped in a dull, colourless fog. I could hear people talking around me, see them moving from one place to another, but somehow, none of it felt real.

I just felt… numb.

There was only one thought that kept returning, no matter how many times I tried to push it away.

What is the purpose of my life?

Why am I here?

What am I supposed to become?

The questions sat quietly inside my mind, growing heavier each time they came back.

And then, suddenly, a voice broke through my thoughts.

“Hey, Rikka! Did you finish packing your bag?”

I looked up.

For a moment, I couldn't understand why the question felt so familiar.

Then I remembered.

That day.

The first day of my boarding school.

I had been nervous—more nervous than I wanted anyone to know. My bag lay open in front of me, clothes scattered everywhere, while my mind was already imagining every possible thing that could go wrong.

It was the first time I was leaving home.

The first time I would have to sleep in a room that wasn't mine, surrounded by people I didn't know.

I didn't know it then, but that day was going to be the beginning of something.

Something I would carry with me for years.

I looked at my half-packed bag and took a slow breath.

“Yeah,” I finally said.

But the truth was…

I wasn't ready at all.

It was a strange day.

Nothing had gone the way I wanted it to. The hours passed strangely, as if the entire day had been wrapped in a dull, colourless fog. I could hear people talking around me and see them moving from one place to another, but somehow, none of it felt real.

I just felt… numb.

There was only one thought that kept returning, no matter how many times I tried to push it away.

What is the purpose of my life?

Why am I here?

What am I supposed to become?

The questions sat quietly inside my mind, growing heavier each time they came back.

And then, suddenly, a voice broke through my thoughts.

“Hey, Rikka! Did you finish packing your bag?”

I looked up.

For a moment, I couldn't understand why the question felt so familiar.

Then I remembered.

That day.

The first day of boarding school.

I had been nervous—more nervous than I wanted anyone to know. My bag lay open in front of me, clothes scattered everywhere, while my mind imagined every possible thing that could go wrong.

It was the first time I was leaving home.

The first time I would have to sleep in a room that wasn't mine, surrounded by people I didn't know.

I didn't know it then, but that day was going to be the beginning of something.

Something I would carry with me for years.

I looked at my half-packed bag and took a slow breath.

“Yeah,” I finally said.

But the truth was…

I wasn't ready at all.

I had to accept that I was going to boarding school.

When we arrived, I was surprised by how nice the place was. The school was enormous, with wide buildings and long corridors that seemed to stretch farther than I could see. For a moment, I forgot how frightened I was.

Then the school bell rang.

It was time for break.

Students poured out of their classrooms, running through the halls and across the courtyard. The sound of their shoes tapping rapidly against the floor echoed all around me. Their voices blended into a loud, restless hum.

I stood there, watching them.

There were so many children, and I felt as though every one of them was looking at me.

My nervousness grew with every passing second.

Suddenly, a teacher called us over. He checked our names and organized all our After my mother left, I stood there for a while, not really knowing what I was supposed to do next.

Then a few senior girls came over.

“Come with us. We’ll show you your room.”

I quietly followed them.

I had imagined that I would be given a small room of my own, but when they opened the door, I stopped in surprise.

It wasn't a room.

It was a huge hall.

There were girls everywhere—so many that I couldn't even count them properly. Around twenty girls lived together in that one room. Beds were arranged across the hall, belongings were scattered around, and voices came from every corner.

I stood at the entrance, holding my bag tightly.

So this was where I was going to live?

With all these people?

I looked around slowly.

There were so many different faces.

Some girls looked just like me—new, nervous, and unsure of what to do. Some were seniors who moved around as though they owned the place. A few stared at me with obvious curiosity, probably wondering who the new girl was.

Others didn't seem interested at all.

They simply glanced at me before returning to whatever they had been doing.

Then I noticed a girl standing in front of a mirror.

She seemed completely absorbed in her reflection.

She kept looking at herself, adjusting her hair and examining her face as if she had nowhere else to be.

I wondered what she was thinking.

Why is she so busy looking at herself?

I didn't understand it.

Everything around me felt strange.

The noise.

The people.

The unfamiliar room.

The feeling of being surrounded by strangers while knowing absolutely no one.

And then I realized something.

If I wanted to survive here, I would have to make friends.

So I did what I thought was the right thing.

I approached a girl and started a conversation.

She was someone I had known from my hometown. We had attended tuition classes together before I came to boarding school, so talking to her felt easier than approaching a complete stranger.

I thought I had found someone familiar.

Someone I could trust.

I thought becoming friends with her would make everything easier.

I had no idea that it would become one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

But back then, I didn't know any of that.

I was simply trying to survive.

Everything was new.

I had to figure out when to eat, where to go, when to bathe, where everything was kept, and how to follow the rules of a place I had never lived in before.

Even the simplest things became confusing.

And slowly, day after day, I began changing.

I didn't know how to describe it at the time.

I was quiet.

Awkward.

Always worried about what people thought of me.

I had never really thought of myself as beautiful. In fact, I had spent so much time hearing myself called ugly, or hearing comments about my body, that I slowly began believing them.

I thought there was something wrong with me.

I thought I was too ordinary.

Too awkward.

Not pretty enough.

But when I look back now, I realize something I couldn't understand back then.

I was just a normal girl.

A girl trying to find her place in a world that suddenly felt much bigger than she was.

I also learned something I wish I had never needed to learn.

Being kind doesn't always make life easier.

Sometimes, kindness makes you an easier target.

Sometimes, you give and give until there is almost nothing left of you.

And sometimes, the people you trust are the ones who leave the deepest scars.

My days became filled with stress.

Bad days.

Tears.

Loneliness.

Moments when I wanted to give up.

But I didn't.

Somehow, even when I felt like I had fallen apart completely, I would pick myself up again.

I kept going.

Day after day.

I adjusted.

Then I adjusted again.

And little by little, without even realizing it, I became someone I had never intended to become.

Someone stronger.

Someone harder.

Someone who had learned how to survive.

But perhaps survival changes people in ways they don't notice until much later.

Years passed.

I was promoted to Class Eight.

By then, boarding school didn't feel quite as unfamiliar anymore. I knew the routines. I knew the corridors. I knew how things worked.

I thought I had already experienced almost everything this place could possibly throw at me.

Then, one day, I saw a new girl.

She had just joined the school.

She was in Class Six, just like I had once been when I first arrived.

I noticed her immediately.

She was beautiful.

Not the kind of beautiful that made me stop and stare for some deep reason—I didn't feel anything like that.

At least, not then.

What caught my attention was the way she dressed.

Her clothes were different.

Stylish.

She carried herself differently from the rest of us.

I looked at her for a moment before turning toward my friend.

“Look at those junior girls,” I said with a laugh. “They're so stylish.”

I glanced at myself and then at my friend.

“Not like us. We're so simple.”

We laughed.

It was such an ordinary moment.

A silly comment.

A new girl.

Nothing important.

Nothing that seemed like it could possibly change my life.

I didn't know her.

She didn't know me.

And I certainly didn't know that the girl I had casually laughed about that day would eventually become someone I could never forget.

I thought I was simply watching a new junior walk into our school.

I didn't realize I was watching the beginning of my own love story.documents, moving from one student to the next with calm efficiency. I tried to listen carefully, but my thoughts were still racing.

After everything was settled, I realized there was no turning back.

I was ready to stay at the boarding school.

Or at least, I had to pretend that I was.

My mother was about to leave me. I tried to remain calm, but my chest felt tight, and I could feel tears gathering in my eyes.

Before she walked away, she leaned toward me and kissed my forehead.

It was a small gesture, but it made everything feel real.

Then she left.

I watched her disappear, standing alone in a place filled with unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar sounds.

That was the moment I understood that my old life had ended.

And my new one had begun.