For better days to come, perhaps I needed a mask—a mask so convincing, so lifelike, that even I couldn’t tell if it was me beneath it. Was it the real me, or just the mask pretending to be me?
So I gave that mask a name—Rudeus.
He was a version of me, yet the complete opposite in many ways. Because, let’s be honest, I couldn’t face everything in life armed only with my inner child—the part of me that’s kind, quiet, overly forgiving, and always retreating. Rudeus was the side that could do what I wouldn’t, speak up, challenge, reach out, and walk into storms with eyes wide open.
And so, with Rudeus, I set a small but significant goal for myself:91Please respect copyright.PENANAxT5tdnsdLV
To win the third coding contest hosted by Thub.91Please respect copyright.PENANAM1A6HdBhOo
But it wasn’t just about winning—it was about stepping out, talking to people, understanding them, really seeing through them.
That’s when I started categorizing people—not by name or grades or reputation—but by the essence I felt in them. I called them flowers, because even the broken ones bloomed once upon a time.
Type 1: Dead Flowers
The ones who’d lost their way in life. The ones who no longer dreamed for themselves, walking paths laid out by others. They're not lazy, they're just… done. Done hoping. Done trying. These are the ones I worry about most. They say, “I’ll start today,” but their "today" never comes. They're stuck—either frozen in a future that’s too far or trapped in a past they can’t fix.91Please respect copyright.PENANAiuBOIrsCfQ
They are lifeless, not because they want to be, but because the world took too much too soon.
Type 2: Dream Flowers
They pity me—and I pity them back. These are the hopefuls who are always "almost there."91Please respect copyright.PENANA8yrzF7N6gT
They say things like:
“If I had that setup…”91Please respect copyright.PENANAhdJmKQWLLu
“If I had more time…”91Please respect copyright.PENANAQ4R8Ncl3xW
“If only I were like you…”91Please respect copyright.PENANAZwDnAPPo0B
They believe they can, but never do. Because they dream with their eyes wide open but never move their feet. They envy others but won’t acknowledge effort. They are romantic escapists—scared not of failure, but of reality.91Please respect copyright.PENANAkMc4OMM7CV
Their dreams are loud, but their will to act is silent.
Type 3: Hopeless Flowers
My favorite kind. The ones who shouldn’t have any hope left, yet keep trying anyway. They fail, get up, fail again, and still hope. That kind of pure hope is terrifying—because it’s relentless. These are the ones who keep going, who believe the world will be kind next time.91Please respect copyright.PENANANoDfhxl6bw
They shine not despite their scars but because of them.
And here’s the strange part—I could almost read people just from a few exchanged words. It scared me sometimes, how clear they became to me so quickly.
And where did I place Seren?91Please respect copyright.PENANA6Kbk2qxHgO
Nowhere.
Because I couldn’t place her in any category. She wasn’t a flower in my garden of types.91Please respect copyright.PENANAO3wy6tEEWA
She shined.91Please respect copyright.PENANAMXVi1tkxJ4
So bright, so strange, that neither my heart nor my mind could decide how to feel about it. And believe me, I have scary intuition. The kind of spidey-sense that tingles before anything happens—good or bad.91Please respect copyright.PENANAQC1FFyxlc3
But with Seren?91Please respect copyright.PENANAhWIes75ZJI
I was unstable. Too much of everything and yet not enough to make sense of it.
The days flowed like gentle rivers with sudden rapids.91Please respect copyright.PENANAH3vS5g2pHl
Morning bus rides were mostly talking with Seren and dozing off. At Thub, I kept learning, talking—and occasionally dancing just to keep the blood and motivation flowing.
And at THub, I met someone I’d never expected:91Please respect copyright.PENANAizAfduXSze
My teacher. No… My Teacher.91Please respect copyright.PENANAu9dRE1EQZh
The first person I ever truly called that. His name—Pavan. The man who showed up every day with a spark in his heart and a joke half the class couldn’t catch. He was a Hopeless Flower—kind, real, grounded. Living not in the past or future, but in the moment. Rare. Precious.
He taught me more than tech. He taught me resilience. He taught me the difference between difficult and impossible. He called it out:
"Nothing is too easy or too hard. You just need a consistent mind and a heart that won’t quit."
And that stuck.
He even let me call him "brother"—the kind of casual, respectful connection I rarely made. And as forgetful as I am with names, I’m sure I’ll never forget his. Pavan.
Lunch was always a ritual. A sandwich. Same stall. Same sister-like figure who made it ready even before I arrived. She just knew. I did too. Guess that’s the power of committing to a single sandwich stall in a chaotic college.
Afternoons meant lectures. I dozed sometimes. Sorry, not sorry.
Evenings were golden. Seren and I would talk. Sometimes behind the buses, sometimes near them. And those short chats—those little nothings—made everything feel like something.
And then came the third coding contest.
I gave it everything.91Please respect copyright.PENANAvpcKOew9Ek
And I won.
For a moment, the world aligned. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could make something out of this life. I smiled. I felt happy.
But, as always, the world noticed. And not always kindly.
People—boys, girls—started messaging me. Asking doubts. Wanting to be friends. I tried to be kind, replied to everyone. Some were genuine.91Please respect copyright.PENANAmQ5q2djocs
Some weren't.
Some misused it.91Please respect copyright.PENANAwVZ6OJDMUG
Some mocked it as "just talent."91Please respect copyright.PENANAYzwvMsAq5r
Do I look like a genius to you? Maybe.91Please respect copyright.PENANAYQqtRXvEZk
But what they didn’t see were the sleepless nights, the tutorials, the self-doubt, the failed projects, the late-night debug marathons. They didn’t see the pain and growth. They just saw the result.
"If I were you, I’d do it too," they said.91Please respect copyright.PENANA5o5w14fwPh
Then why didn’t you?
Only a few understood. Only a few truly acknowledged it.91Please respect copyright.PENANAZKjb0XZj91
And the rest?91Please respect copyright.PENANA0Ixz5uGtda
Their words became the fuel that kept Rudeus alive.91Please respect copyright.PENANAjTdMO0fI4x
Because that’s why he was born in the first place—91Please respect copyright.PENANAHhSjKDpElh
To survive.91Please respect copyright.PENANAHB0P5xHBdY
To die, so I could live.