Before Nineteen, I Want to Say Thank You

I had just returned after dinner and originally meant to lie down for a while. Then I remembered that four days had passed without a learning log or reflection, so I opened my laptop instead.

These days had given me plenty to write. One thing simply followed another, and by the time I could finally sit still, several days had already slipped past.

After my second class this morning, I spent the entire afternoon in the library. My laptop, books, and charging cables spread across the desk, and one bottle of water followed another. Now that classes have properly begun, my days are settling into a rhythm: go to class, leave class, head to the library, and return with questions I still have not completely understood.

Laptops, books, water, and charging cables spread across a long library desk — An afternoon in the library. The desk was a little messy, but the day felt solid.

Of course, not every day has been orderly. Last night I went out for barbecue with Lao Xu, and we stayed until three in the morning. Fortunately, I had no eight o'clock class today. I slept until half past nine and treated it as a perfectly legitimate half-day off, haha.

Being busy and relaxing are not opposites. I can attend class when it is time for class, stay seated when I need to work in the library, and occasionally forget the time at a late-night barbecue table. This week has been full, but not suffocatingly so. At the end of each day, I know that I actually lived it.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

By coincidence, my lunar and solar-calendar birthdays fall on the same day this year. Nineteen seems to have arrived quickly—so quickly that before I could properly look back, the calendar was already here.

A few days ago, I opened my flight history and realised that my first flight was already more than a year ago. It went from Changsha to Beijing, and for the first time, the window placed the clouds beneath my feet. More cities followed: nine flights and over thirteen thousand kilometres. The numbers themselves do not mean much, but they remind me that a person really does move away from the familiar little by little, and that every departure makes the world slightly larger.

A travel record for my first flight from Changsha to Beijing — My first flight—the first time I saw the world from above the clouds.

A travel app showing nine flights and the cities visited — After that, the departures slowly began to add up.

Across these nineteen years, what matters most has never been only where I went, but who I met along the way.

Thank you to my family for giving me a place from which I can leave with confidence and to which I can always return. Thank you to all the friends I have met over the years. You filled otherwise ordinary days with laughter, stories, and moments that may return unexpectedly many years from now.

I have often liked comparing life to a train. Some people stay for a long time; others travel for only one stop. Some board without warning, and others quietly leave when it is time to say goodbye. Thinking about it now, perhaps the journey's meaning is not in how distant the final stop may be, but in having someone sit beside me and watch the scenery pass.

So before I turn nineteen, I want to say one thing properly: thank you.

I have invited many friends tomorrow, as well as my counsellor, and I am already looking forward to the party. I do not yet know what nineteen will bring.

Tonight, I will write down my gratitude. Tomorrow, I will simply enjoy the day with everyone.