Finding Myself Between the Lines

The classroom I am sitting in feels like a regular stop now, even though I only end up here twice a week. It is not exactly my favourite spot, but I have grown used to it. I glance at my Apple Watch. It is 12 noon for sure, I think?. Analog clocks were never my strong point, and my watch is cluttered with so many complications that it barely tells me what I need to know.

I lift my eyes from the tiny screen to my laptop, where a draft of this post is staring right back at me. There are a million more responsible ways I could be using this time, but I cannot bring myself to care. Behind me, my friends are presenting their case, fielding questions from the professor, and their voices rise and fall with the lecturer’s probing inquiries. It is chaotic, yes, but somehow that busy hum of conversation and tension feels oddly comforting. Maybe I needed a little background noise to get these words flowing.

Why now? Why write at this exact moment? Because lately I have felt an itch, a slow burning, insideous even, urge to tap into my creativity again. My life right now revolves around surviving medical school. And that is not the kind of life I want to live forever.

Being a final year student is like sitting next to a time bomb that keeps ticking away the last moments of my student life. This is my final phase of having fewer responsibilities and the freedom to explore. If I mess this up, if I lose my grip on what matters to me, I fear I will lose my creativity. That thought alone feels like a huge piece of my soul slipping through my fingers.

I have been told that any meaningful road is paved with hardship. Still, I cannot help but ask myself: Do I really want this path? Is it truly mine, or am I following a route I never fully embraced? Am I still holding resentment for how I ended up here?

I take a long, deep breath, letting the whirlwind of thoughts settle for just a moment. I remind myself why I am doing this, why I am writing in a cramped classroom with voices swirling around me. I am creating something in the midst of chaos, holding on to each second before it slips away. With my schedule strangling my free time, how am I ever going to climb out of this rut? Maybe this small act of writing, right here and now, is my first attempt at a ladder.

About 50 days ago, I decided to change my life. I started a self improvement journey filled with mistakes and setbacks. It has been slow and painful, but about two weeks ago, I managed to fix one major thing: my sleep. It might sound insignificant, but trust me, for me it was monumental.

I remember a time before medical school, when I felt unstoppable. I was fit, running half marathons, following a ketogenic diet my mother managed, and completely immersed in music. My creativity thrived and my sleep was steady and reliable. It was during the COVID years, a time spent mostly at home, where life felt balanced. I had time. I had space. I had freedom.

Then I entered medical school in October 2020. At first, everything was online, so I still maintained some semblance of the life I loved. But that protective bubble burst. Without warning, balance slipped through my hands.

Now I am heavier than ever before, dragging myself through student life, my creative spark barely a faint glow. Music sessions happen maybe once a year if I am lucky, short film projects even less often, and my writing is so sporadic that pieces seldom reach completion. Even if they do, they feel mediocre, like they were never worth the energy.

It would be easy to blame fate or circumstances, but deep down I know the truth. My habits, my choices, my priorities, all led me here. Accepting that hurts, but it is necessary.

I need a change. I want to become the best version of myself by the time I turn 25. That is why I started this self improvement journey 50 days ago, roughly 100 days before my birthday. Maybe it is not the wisest idea to put a deadline on personal growth, but having a goal keeps me focused. This is not about reaching perfection by 25, but proving that I can reclaim the person I want to be, maybe even surpass what I used to be.

Even now, I am uncertain how to move forward. Should I proclaim that I will write every day for the next few weeks? Part of me laughs at that thought. How many times have I announced grand plans, only to vanish after a couple of entries? If I wrote a memoir, it would be called How to Start Without Finishing.

But this time, I want something different. I want more authenticity. I want to use my story as a starting point for other creative projects I have in mind. Writing lets me experiment with storytelling, beginning with my own story.

You might wonder why I am writing if I am a musician at heart. That is a story for another time. For now, know that writing, especially journaling, has always felt deeply personal. It began with Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I was obsessed with that series. My father brought home a notebook from his involvement with the World Cup, just a souvenir to him, but to me it became my first diary. Inspired by Greg Heffley’s escapades, I began scribbling down my own thoughts, rough and unpolished, yet meaningful in their own way.

That is the beauty of writing. It does not need to be flawless. It just needs to exist, to capture a moment in time and give it shape.

So here I am, marking a new beginning. I plan to share my thoughts, my struggles, and the journey I am on. It will not be perfect, and it might get messy. That is okay. This is all part of the process.

I have called this my Abominable Attempt at 100 days of self improvement. Maybe that title sounds dramatic and ridiculous, but sometimes aiming high is what propels us forward. I am about halfway through now, and fixing my sleep was a huge win. It felt like reclaiming a part of me I thought I had lost.

I am not here to sell you hollow productivity tips. I want to share something genuine, shaped by real experience, not cherry picked data. This will not be easy. Balancing med school, a creative revival, and improving my life all at once feels like trying to scale a cliff without a rope. Yet I feel more determined than ever before.

I cannot guarantee where this will lead, but I am willing to find out. Here is to new beginnings and the promise of a better, more authentic me. I look forward to seeing where this adventure takes me. See you in the next one peepos!