The lonely Planet

Spring has always been the most special season of my life. It’s not just about blooming flowers or gentle winds—it’s about the moment I got a second chance. Hi, I’m Mi… and yes, I’m lonely. But I wasn’t always like this. Once, I believed I had a normal life, a family like everyone else’s. A father, a mother, and dreams of happiness. But life had other plans. At a very young age, I witnessed the constant fights between my parents. The shouting, the tears, the silence afterward—it all became a part of my everyday world. Eventually, they separated. I had to move away with my mother, leaving behind a home that no longer felt like one. Living with my mother wasn’t easy. She had her own struggles—working endlessly, carrying pain in her eyes. She didn’t have time for me, and though I was right beside her, I felt like a burden. It hurt to think maybe she didn’t love me anymore. But I never stopped loving her. In that loneliness, I found a strange comfort in creativity. While my mother worked with fabrics, I secretly started learning how to make clothes from paper. Little tops and skirts—each piece was like a little world I could control when everything else felt broken. As I grew older, my mother decided to send me to school. The new school was nice, but I felt like I didn’t belong. I didn’t have the fancy things other children had. I didn’t have a father to talk about during school events. I felt small. Invisible. But then something changed. I met a classmate who became my first real friend. Kind and supportive, she made me feel like I mattered. We went to school together, shared lunch during breaks, and slowly, my world began to feel a little brighter. Then came another turn in my story. One day, my grandmother arrived. She was like a gentle wind in the middle of a storm. Because of my mother’s financial difficulties, I had to go live with her. It wasn’t easy at first—new home, new faces, two sisters who didn’t welcome me warmly. They disliked my mother and took it out on me. Even now, they treat me like a servant, making me do their work. But they don’t know the pain I’ve been through. That’s why I don’t get angry anymore. I just feel regret... and confusion. I still love my mother deeply. But I don’t know if she still loves me. Despite everything, I’m learning to be strong. My new school is good, and I try my best every day. Life throws challenges without thinking about how strong someone is. But I’ve faced the storm before. And I’ll do it again. So now, let me tell you this story—not just as a narrator, but as someone who lived it. On a distant planet of pain, love, and survival… there was a girl named Mi. And this is her journey. As I'm still standing..... Living life quietly in a small town, where the skies are wide but the world feels small. I thought things might finally get better, but new challenges keep finding their way to me. This time, they come with smiles—attending seekers, who at first seemed kind. The first day felt like a fresh start, but slowly, I noticed a shift. Day by day, people began to distance themselves. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s the boys—charming, sweet, the kind whose presence turns heads. When they come close to me, the girls around begin to change. Their eyes speak in cold whispers. Is it jealousy? Or is it just me? Maybe I’m not good enough to be their friend. Maybe I never was. Even in the silence, I push forward. I’ve been improving in my studies—something I once thought was impossible. I used to fail, fall behind, and feel lost. But strangely, the harshness of life, even the beatings from my sister, have shaped me. I can’t say if that’s good or bad. It hurts—but it’s also what woke me up. My mind whispers: “Give up.” But my body refuses. Every step, every breath says: “Keep going.” Whatever is happening around me—loneliness, doubt, jealousy—I remind myself that I’m still doing my best. I show up, I study, I live. And that matters. I’m doing what I can for a better future, for a peaceful life. Even if the world turns its back, I won’t. Because I’m still standing. Now, I’m in Grade 5. A year that should’ve been full of learning and laughter—but for me, it’s filled with struggles. School is hard. The books are heavy, not just in my hands, but on my heart. Sometimes, I try my best to understand, but the weight of everything else in life pulls me down. Home isn’t much easier. There are days when we don’t even have proper food to eat. Hunger has become a quiet companion, sitting beside me as I do homework, as I sleep, as I dream. I don’t complain anymore—I’ve learned that some things just don’t change no matter how much you cry. And then, the biggest blow of all—my grandmother. She was the one who held me when the world turned cold. The one who gave me warmth, even in her silence. But now, she’s gone. Just like that. And it feels like everything good in my life is slowly walking away from me, leaving only pain behind. I sit alone sometimes and wonder: Why does life keep testing me like this? Why does everything I love have to leave? But somehow, I’m still here. Maybe it’s because even in the middle of all this hurt, there’s still a tiny light inside me that refuses to die. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I’ll keep waking up, keep trying, keep learning—because even when the world feels empty, I still have hope. But now again, something surprising happened—my aunty, uncle, and even my father moved in with us. For a moment, it felt like a dream. I smiled quietly to myself, thinking, Maybe this is the start of something better. My father, the man who once held my hand, who made me laugh and feel loved—I thought those moments might return. After all, I’m his child, and I still hold on to the memories when I was his little girl and his world. But dreams can trick you. I didn’t know that behind his silence, there was distance. And behind his return, there were cracks I couldn’t see. It hurts to say this, but I started to feel his love fading. Cold stares. Silence. A sense that I no longer mattered. I began to wonder… did he hate me now? And then there’s my aunty. She finds ways to push me down, with her words, her actions, her presence. She makes sure I feel small, unwanted, invisible. I try to stay out of the way, but somehow, I still end up blamed, punished, or ignored. Now, I’ve become my own best friend. I keep to myself, trying to find little things to do—anything to keep my mind off the pain. But even that peace doesn’t last. I’m kept hungry, scolded for things I didn’t do, and sometimes, they even tell me to leave the house. A house I never chose. A house that was supposed to give me shelter. A house that never felt like home. And yet, here I am—still standing, still breathing, still hoping. Now, many years have passed. Years filled with fights, heartbreak, silence, and searching for love in places where it was missing. I’ve lived through days that felt like storms, where hope was just a tiny flicker in a dark room. I’ve cried in corners no one saw, been blamed for things I never did, and felt hunger not just in my stomach—but in my heart, for care, for peace, for belonging. But I’m still here. The same girl who once played with paper clothes, The same girl who stood quiet in crowded rooms, The same girl who looked up at her father and hoped to feel loved again— She never gave up. And even though I don’t know what the future holds, I’ve learned this much: I have survived every hard day life has thrown at me. And if I can do that, I can face whatever comes next too. So maybe life hasn’t been fair. Maybe some people tried to break me. But they didn’t succeed. Because I am still standing. Still growing. And still hoping—for something better, something beautiful. And one day, I know I’ll find it.