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:115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMplNtt6fFM
To win the third coding contest hosted by Thub.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQO0FyQ7Xgg
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7jMjOAmPii
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."115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyVf7S1RxcC
They say things like:
“If I had that setup…”115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsRX5HHcI5
“If I had more time…”115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk1otLndVXQ
“If only I were like you…”115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTPhYoKQJpL
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNx9Sl2WF7T
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLEZzssWz4W
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?115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6EDO5KqDUM
Nowhere.
Because I couldn’t place her in any category. She wasn’t a flower in my garden of types.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6yq2yAMkKj
She shined.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2jGD1amIGI
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZX17pgpCCb
But with Seren?115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK3MawabFfK
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdnWIDFjPOA
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:115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQBzyM0AIGc
My teacher. No… My Teacher.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3979Uxbnnc
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8MzvICGmVM
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuMFw61xUy1
Some weren't.
Some misused it.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdPgRn2bfpE
Some mocked it as "just talent."115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8nPdoFE6cH
Do I look like a genius to you? Maybe.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlYnDzKkmvf
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.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9bqdSFwfJI
Then why didn’t you?
Only a few understood. Only a few truly acknowledged it.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtKeIIbwglP
And the rest?115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi0CLKs5899
Their words became the fuel that kept Rudeus alive.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHjh8efuLby
Because that’s why he was born in the first place—115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJycD2GMaaT
To survive.115Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCO1Osi8woY
To die, so I could live.
