My Alter-Ego

Back in my high-school days, when nothing seemed more important to me than undertaking the journey to self-discovery, I chanced upon a girl who had magically shed light on my inner self, which, ironically, was someone I find so hard to understand and explore. When we first met, she happily related the story of her life in middle school. It turned out that like me, she was also a teenager who couldn’t help but barrage herself with questions about who she really is, how she should run her life, and other anxieties that easily find themselves in a young, adolescent mind. She was like my own reflection in the mirror, and as I see more and more of myself in her, I suddenly find myself listening to the tale of a life that is just as much mine as it is hers. Time passed, and it was only after she had finished that I realized that we came from two different worlds: I have been living my everyday life in a world of reality for nearly fifteen years; she had going through hers in a comic book.

Shizuku Tsukishima is the main character of Mimi wo Sumaseba, or Whispers of the Heart, a manga (Japanese comic book) created by Aoi Hiiragi. When I first read the first few pages, I was so amazed by the striking resemblance in our interests, goals, values, and principles in life. Her ardent passion for novels and other works of art, her dream of weaving her creativity and imagination into words that could touch people’s hearts, her way of exploring her own forte and weakness, and her determination to find out her own definition of life completely parallels my own. Then, as I went on further, I realized that Shizuku and I happened to have the same personality—shy yet outgoing, cheerful but discreet, down-to-earth but creative, stubborn yet sensitive—thus making me feel like the author had delved deep into my soul first before she started working on the manga. Rather than doing extensive research on the latest fashion trends and celebrity gossips, we both reflect much about everyday life as how we see it and write stories in our spare time. Like any typical teen, we hate being pressured to do something we don’t want just because we are expected to, even though sometimes, we couldn’t help but just “go with the flow” simply because we either lack confidence in ourselves or wish to avoid trouble. Like her, I am the type of girl who considers libraries, bookstores, and trinket shops as better hangouts than malls, discos, and arcades; the kind of student who gives her all to excel even if that would mean going through sleepless nights and jeopardizing her health. She has been her close friends’ good listener and sounding board, and coincidentally, so was I.

Then again, the fact that her obsession for literature, her persona, her preferences, and her way of thinking were just about the same as mine didn’t really matter all that much as these are, for me, just superficial qualities that can be overlooked. It was the doubts and insecurities she had felt, the obstacle and challenges she had faced, the adversities and struggles she had overcome, and the life lessons she had used to build her character further that really brought me closer to her, because all of what she had experienced were like reminiscences of my own. I could almost feel the pages of the manga coming to life, turning my reading experience into a trip down memory lane.

Just as how the life of a student isn’t just about showing a good persona, making friends, finishing one’s homework, getting high grades, and having fun during weekends, the time came for Shizuku to confront and fight her own demons. While she reveled in the courage and dedication her friend Seiji had in pursuing his aspiration to become a master in violin crafting, she felt shame washing over her for not having enough guts to discover the extent of her capabilities. She has always been so unsure of her own abilities, and she hated herself for that. Then, like the flick of a switch, an idea struck her. She should try penning a novel of her own to know if she had what it takes to become a writer someday! She knew it was going to be very difficult to devote much of her energy and time to write since it would surely affect her studies; nevertheless, she must set aside all her worries and push through her writing project despite her parents’ and her friends’ protest.

Well, something like that happened to me too. It was the time when I decided to join the English and Chinese essay writing contest held in our school annually for the third time.

Like Shizuku, writing is my ruling passion, and even though I have failed to garner first, second, or third place in the contest for two years straight, I still wanted to give it a shot. For some reason, I needed to prove to myself as well as to everyone that I have a potential in creating beauty and meaning out of words, or else I’d keep on berating myself about why I didn’t grasp the chance and let some minor setbacks get to me. When the teacher decided to let me represent the class together with the second placer of last year’s contest, I tried to drive away all feelings of uncertainty and managed a small smile of relief and gratitude. But I wasn’t prepared for what would happen next. Some of my classmates started casting weird glances at me, and I accidentally heard one of them muttering about how a girl like me who hadn’t won a single recognition award in writing shouldn’t even think of joining. I know that I shouldn’t let her harsh words get the better of me, but being the sensitive fool that I still am, I couldn’t just let it pass. What she said hit me hard, shook my whole system, and before I knew it, I was already blubbering and blaming myself for not backing out. It was at that moment when a voice somewhere deep in my heart screamed for me to pull myself together, give the incident little or no thought, and set my priorities straight. As I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, it suddenly dawned on me that it was pathetic of me to wallow in regret and self-pity, because there was nothing wrong in wanting to prove that I can now write better essays than before and to learn more about myself through writing. Nervousness and insecurities aside, the stubborn streak in me was determined to show them what I’m really made of.

After finishing her debut novel, Shizuku finally learned something about what she should do with her life. For one, she still needed to get high grades in middle school to be able to enter a prestigious high school where she could hone her still unpolished writing skills even further. Suddenly, she felt herself gaining a new level of confidence, because now, she had already left the crossroad of her life to set her feet onto the same path Seiji took when he went to Italy to study as an apprentice under a professional violinmaker for two months—the road to ambitions and dreams.

Likewise, I was also able to get my happy ending—I was awarded the first place for my English essay and the third place for my Chinese. Even before the results were announced, I had already felt like a winner—not because I was sure that my essays would be chosen as one of the three best works, but simply because I listened to my heart, just like Shizuku did. I was able to discover the fact that my writing skills have improved but still needs a lot of polishing; moreover, I was able to get to know the writer and the artist in me who finally had enough confidence to step out of the shadows to show everybody that memorizing and studying aren’t the only things nerdy honor students are good at. The only difference was that, instead of having someone like Seiji for inspiration, I got my classmates’ unpleasant glances and insulting remarks to thank for.

By the time I reach college, I would have already outgrown Shizuku, because just as life in her world becomes stationary every time the book is closed, life in mine will still go on its natural course, and growing up is part of the whole process. At least, that was what I thought two years ago.
Two years have already passed, and even as I am already living the first year of my college life, I could still find my alter ego smiling back at me whenever I look at myself in the mirror. I realized that I haven’t fully grown up yet, and we are still the same rough, ordinary-looking stones that need several more meaningful years of careful polishing and refining just so the gems inside would surface and glimmer in a beautiful variety of colors.

We do differ in one thing though: just as the story of her life ended when she had already chosen her path, mine simply opened up to a new beginning.