Golden Years

It was December 31st, my birthday or in other words New Year’s Eve. It seems like nothing had changed in the course of ten years. I still had my crazy addiction to ice cream, I still worked for a bookstore in Adelaide. Yeah I had got a little promotion and now earnt an extra 2 dollars and 46 cents but I wasn’t where I planned to be ten years ago in 2013. 

I remember the day clearly. A cloudy but humid night. The night was like a blanket that covered the town and even though blackness was all that was visible to the human eye, wispy clouds could be seen floating around like little clown fish surrounded by anemone. Back then I was only 17 and I had experienced all the silver but never the gold. Nothing came my way including school, my writing career and even my family. We had just moved to Adelaide and I hated it. Adelaide was such a small state compared to the world. When I walked on the streets I felt like I was in such a big world full of people and I always wondered how Adelaide could be called small. 

We had moved from a small place in China called Dalian. Back there I lived in a 12 story apartment with my grandma and parents. I lived on the 9th floor. My parents were nasty little wasps. They were always a pain in the butt. My grandmother was amazing; she had so many stories to tell. My grandmother disguised laundry baskets to stash chocolate chip cookies.I never told anyone this but the reason we moved was because my grandmother died. I always hated living in the new neighbourhood because everyone would judge me. It was horrible. For my 18th birthday, I wished for something really important to me. World peace. 

Despite my background, I had a really big dream to be a writer like JK Rowling. She was my idol and she was the only reason I felt loved. Her books were the thing that motivated me the most. That's why later that summer a year after my eighteenth birthday I signed up for a writing class that was held online by one of the greatest Australian writers ,Tim Winton. I hesitated a lot to sign up for this class. It was a two HUNDRED dollar starter fee and that didn’t even include the lessons. Ever since I turned eighteen I had been on my own for everything you name it. Clothes, rent, food you name it. At the end I signed up with the thought of this being my first step to being a writer.

Later in March when the classes started, I realised that this class was a scam. Tim Winton was proposably sick with a nasty flu and the course included things for a 5 year old. That's when I first realised success was harder than anything else I had ever tried. 

I then needed to find work to pay for things so I spoke with a bookstore manager who offered eighteen dollars and fifty-four cents to be a simple employee. Even though I was hoping for a little more I accepted because I knew it was now or never that I began my journey. I planned to be a globally world known writer in a decade. I planned to prove everyone wrong. That I, a girl which everyone thought was hopeless, still had a chance.

I began on Sunday like a normal worker in a supermarket. The process was gruelling and I soon found it tedious. Was everyone's life like this? I knew this might’ve been someone's gig but my heart settled in another occupation. I always knew that but I kept silent, not daring to lose my only hope. Grab book, stack book repeat. Grab book, stack book repeat. I was so scared to sign up for any other writing competition after being discouraged by everyone. I was like a crab in her shell but never came out. I worked in this bookshop for 3 years before an earthquake hit Adelaide. It was a minor one but I wrecked the unit I lived in and I was forced to find somewhere else to live. I was still struggling like I was when I had just moved to Adelaide. I could barely afford to live in Adelaide but I tried as hard as I could to push through. I quit at the bookshop and moved more towards the city where I was employed for a week as a cleaner for West field Plaza before I immediately quit to go back to being an employee at a bookshop, this time earning twenty dollars per hour.

 That was where I was for 2 years before my father who I hadn’t heard of in years texted me saying that my mum had died in a fatal car crash in Dalian. He invited me to the funeral in Dalian. I was surprised to learn that my mum had died but even more surprised to know that my father wanted me to come. Ever since I turned eighteen my parents had left me alone in a land that I barely knew. They wanted nothing to do with me and whenever we were out they would call me their colleague. A few days after my 18th birthday they announced that they were going to Dalian and then said nothing else. I never really missed them because even in my younger ages they were terrible parents making me sleep on the couch and eat expired pasta while they had five course meals. 

Of course I went back to Dalian for my dear mothers funeral. I had nothing to do with the Wang family but I had to go. It only was right. When I arrived in Dalian my father surprisingly picked me up from the airport and gave me a free ride to his apartment where I was staying. Back when I was a child a free ride was a gift out of heaven. Even though his personality had changed a lot his appearance had barely changed. I remembered his thin rimmed glasses and his freshly shaved beard. His hair was still sharp and short like a criminal that had just left jail. 

He was super friendly like I was some sort of royalty member and when I started talking about my mothers death he seemed to be quite happy. I didn’t blame him though my mother was on one side clingy on the other side vicious. On the day of the funeral, I didn’t wear black. I wore yellow, my mum's least favourite colour to show her what she actually deserved. My father said nothing about it which flabbergasted me. It took two minutes into the funeral before I really regretted wearing yellow. She may have been the worst mother one could ever ask for but she was my mother and she had taken on the responsibility of raising me. The next day I was just about to leave when my father stopped me and immediately started giving me smack talk saying how brave I was and how I was amazing. It didn’t take long for him to get to his point of needing money and that he was struggling to live. After that all I could remember from the scene was me slamming the door in his face before leaving and never regretting that decision.

When I got back to Adelaide, I felt like I was ready for something bigger. I was ready for a challenge that life could set me. I wanted to write an adventure story. That was what all those famous writers did. Maybe one about a young girl who was lost in the ocean. I knew once I started there was no other option but to quit. That’s when I realised something. How was I supposed to earn money to fund my book? Did this still mean that I had to work at the filthy bookshop. I grudgingly continued work at the bookshop but what did this mean to me?

Every day I still went to work but late at night I would boil some tea and began writing. It was like I was holding my breath underwater feeling the gold sand that flickered in my hand. I saw the sharks swim by like underwater predators. Clutching my heart I let the words pour out. The story in my opinion was great and when I published it I was so excited to be known as “ Best Writer in Australia” but orders never came to me. My hope slowly ebbed away like the waves would, crashing by rocks. 

So here I am now. Existing. It’s my birthday and New Year’s Eve but I’m the only one in the block who isn’t eating, playing games, watching the countdown and blowing streamers. I’m just sitting in nothingness. I’ve put blood sweat and tears into this. Waking up at five in the morning to go to the bookstore. Standing all day and putting on a fake smile now to wonder whether this was worth it. Now I’m sitting here not bothered to go to the bookstore to work because I never wanted to. That’s when I realised why I never succeeded. It was because I never tried to succeed. Opportunities don’t just come to you. That's when my confidence got to me and I realised that these ten years hadn’t been a waste of time. I had learnt the most valuable lesson one could ever experience. You are enough when you realise how strong you are.

The most gorgeous, intelligent, kind, humorous and skilled person 

is the person that you see in the mirror.

You are powerful so SHINE!