đ The Weight of Expectations
They say if you donât take university seriously, youâre irresponsibleâa disappointment, a waste of every sacrifice your family made. They say if you donât fit in, itâs because youâre full of yourself, arrogant, unwilling to follow the group. Every time I step away from the flow, skip the parties, refuse to join the clubs, they call me selfish, antisocial. And when I push myself, running with a jacket on or grinding past my limits, they think itâs just for show, a cry for attention. They donât understand the drive that fuels me, or the weight I carry with every step.
đĽ A Journey Rooted in Loss and Brotherhood
Yes, Iâm on a journey to prove myselfâbut not to them. This path, this pursuit to be the strongest, isnât about feeding some empty pride. Itâs a response to something deeperâa fire that comes from knowing the cost of being powerless in a world that takes and takes, a world that breaks the people we love.
I think of Van, my friend from high school. She was radiantâbrilliant in a way most people couldnât see or understand. She was a force, unafraid to be herself, a master of social sciences in a world that demanded mediocrity. But instead of praise, she faced cruelty. Her classmates mocked her, threw trash at her, all for daring to be different, daring to shine. And I? I sat there in silence, too scared, too insecure to stand up for her. I told myself I wasnât ready, that I was just a kid struggling with my own insecurities, hiding behind the excuse that I was too overweight, too weak, too invisible to make a difference. But then, just like that, she was gone.
Her death was a warning, a wake-up call. And every time I think of her, I wonder if things wouldâve been different if Iâd had the courage to stand by her, to be someone she could rely on. That loss, that regretâitâs a fire that drives me forward, a reminder that I can never let myself feel that powerless again. This world is harsh, relentless, and if I donât stand up, if I donât become stronger, then Iâll have failed not just her memory but everyone whoâs ever counted on me.
Then there are my two best friends, Hieu and Duc Minhâbrothers I thought Iâd have by my side forever. We had dreams together, plans that felt like they could take on the world. We were outliers, each of us pushing against the norms, refusing to get caught up in the meaningless relationships and distractions that seemed to trap everyone else. Hieu, especially, was like a genius ahead of his timeâhe journaled his thoughts, studied science channels with a passion, mapped out his actions, and refused to waste his time on the shallow distractions that everyone else was drawn to. Back then, I saw him as someone rare, someone who wouldnât give in to short-lived relationships or mindless social media scrolling. We even planned to start a web agency together, convinced we could create something meaningful.
We were born in February, him – just about 2 weeks before me. On his birthday, I took him out for a meal, despite being insanely busy and waking up at 4 a.m. every single day. Rest days didnât exist for me; every day was a step toward our dream. But when my birthday came two weeks later, he forgot. It wasnât just that he forgotâit was the silence afterward, the way he ghosted my messages when I asked for his help setting up our agencyâs payment gateway. I didnât have a Visa card then, so I had to pay someone on Fiverr a million VND just to make two $1 transactions to check if the gateway worked. I visited three banks, dealing with every complication just to keep our shared dream alive.
And when I finally confronted him that April, his answer was like a slap in the face. âI was busy with Uni club work,â he said, as if that explained everything. Club workâsomething that doesnât pay, doesnât build a future, something filled with people who wouldnât care if he disappeared tomorrow. I felt betrayed. Here was the guy I thought was my brother, abandoning our vision for something temporary, something shallow. The Hieu Iâd respected, the one who had once stood with me against the world, was gone.
And then thereâs Duc Minhâthe first person I ever swore Iâd take a bullet for. In primary school, he was the friend whoâd walk in the rain beside me, whoâd give me his raincoat without hesitation. We had that kind of loyalty, the rare kind that you think will never fade. But then university came along, and I watched him get swallowed up too. The last time he visited me, it was during Tet, and in a 40-minute meeting, he spent 30 minutes napping. He was so exhausted that he couldnât even stay awake to talk. I was angry, frustrated, but I was also heartbroken. This was my friend, someone I wouldâve done anything for, and now he was too worn down to even remember the connection we shared.
These were the people who were supposed to understand, who were supposed to be by my side. But the system swallowed them, stole their potential, turned them into shadows of who they once were. This is why though I resent school, I take on whateverâs hardest because of my twisted sense of duty, to protect everyone and share their sufferings, to turn their battles into mine. Every promise we made, every plan we shared, feels like a distant memory, leaving me standing here more alone than ever. But that isolation has only deepened my resolve. I refuse to let this system turn me into another casualty, to break me the way itâs broken so many others.
đ Powerlessness and the Titanic Analogy
This journey for me isnât just about proving myself. Itâs about knowing what I could lose, about understanding that time is finite, that life doesnât wait for us to get ready. I think back to a story I heard from a successful entrepreneur who, in his youth, lost the one person he thought he could spend his life with. He believed heâd found his soulmate, someone who could even be the mother of his children. They were young, but the connection ran so deep, it felt like heâd finally found his reason, his âwhy.â Then, in a single stroke, fate ripped her away, forcing her to move oceans apart. They were both in England, but she later had to move back to America. And he was left behind, powerless, feeling the distance stretch between them like a cruel wound he couldnât heal.
He was just a kid, no money, no power, no control over the life he wanted so desperately to build with her. It tore him apart, that helplessnessâthe suffocating, gut-wrenching feeling of being forced to let her go, knowing it was only because he couldnât provide, couldnât cross the miles to reach her. Imagine the person youâd give anything for, slipping out of your life like a shadow, gone because the worldâs rules were stronger than your dreams. The helplessness consumed him, and in the hollow space she left behind, all he felt was a simmering griefâgrief for what he couldnât give her, for what he was too weak to fight for.
He likened it to the Titanic, that ship everyone thought was untouchable, invincible. They were young, in love, full of dreams, just as the Titanic was full of promise. The passengers laughed, ate, danced to the orchestra, believing they were safe. And then, in a single instant, their illusion shattered. The iceberg cut through everythingâtheir laughter, their security, their belief that they were safeâand in its wake, only chaos and cold darkness. Even as the ship sank, the orchestra kept playing, its music twisting into a haunting echo of the lives slipping beneath the waves. In that moment, the passengers realized how little control they had, how easily everything they thought was solid could be taken from them.
For this entrepreneur, losing her was his iceberg. That moment of heartbreaking powerlessness stripped him bare, showing him just how fragile it all was. He vowed he would never feel that way again, never let himself be a helpless passenger in his own life, trapped on a sinking ship with no control. He swore heâd take the wheel of his own life, steer it out of the trap so many others fall into.
Now, I look around, and itâs all I seeâpeople building their lives on routines, on comforts, on steady jobs, just like the passengers on the Titanic, clinging to the illusion of safety while the orchestra in their lives has already started playing. To me, that orchestra is the societal expectation, the routine Iâm bound to, the lessons I have to take without a choice in Uni. Every day, I watch people I care about fall deeper into that trap, convinced that everything will be okay if they just keep going. But I know better. I know that life doesnât wait. One wrong turn, one missed opportunity, one iceberg, and it all goes down.
đŞ The Drive to Defy the System Fueled by Fear and Love
Itâs this grief, this fear, that drives me. Iâm not willing to sit back and let life dictate when itâs time to sink. Iâve seen what that helplessness feels like. I know how it scars you, how it hollows you out. I refuse to let the people I love become passengers on that same sinking ship.
I wake up at 4 a.m. every day, meal prep, train, push myself to exhaustion, because I donât have the luxury of waiting. For me, the road to school is my treadmill, the balcony is my training ground. I canât afford to be satisfied with a 9-to-5 job, or with the shallow goals that keep my classmates content. I need something moreâsomething that gives me true freedom, that makes me strong enough to protect the people who canât protect themselves, the ones society forgets until itâs too late.
Iâve watched this life steal the light from those I care about most. My mom, the person whoâs been my quiet strength from the beginning, works day in and day out, never complaining, hiding her own struggles so I can pursue my dreams. She wonât admit it, but I know her eyesight is failing, her body worn down by years of sacrifice. All she wants is for me to be ânormal,â to live a life free of the burdens sheâs carried, to be someone who can find happiness in simple things. She wants me to go out, to make friends, to live a life thatâs easier than the one Iâve chosen. But how can I, when I donât even have friends? How can I sit back and live a carefree life when I see the silent battles she fights every day, just so I can chase my dreams? Her quiet strength humbles me, and every step I take is for her, even if sheâll never fully understand why I chose this path.
And then thereâs my dad. A hard man, a stoic figure, always there but never fully present. We clash constantlyâhe questions everything I do, doubts my decisions, but I know itâs his way of pushing me, of making sure Iâm strong enough to stand on my own. His love is buried under layers of tough discipline, silent disapproval. He doesnât want me to go through the same struggles he did, but he also doesnât want me to quit. His challenge, his unspoken test, is a weight I carry, a drive that keeps me moving forward, even when it feels like the world is against me.
This is why I canât slow down, why I canât give in. The reality of life, the cost of weakness, is all around me. The system we live in takes the best parts of people, chews them up, and spits them out, leaving them empty and defeated. I refuse to let myself or the people I love become victims of that system.
đ Explaining My Courses of Actions
As selfish or selfless as I may seem, I take pride in protecting those around me, even if it means facing misunderstandings and appearing like an outcast. I choose to extend a hand, to act in ways that make others label me a weirdo, because beneath it all, my actions are fueled by an unwavering belief that people are capable of walking this earth with kindness and carrying the world’s burdens with resilience. Even if my methods come across as harsh or bothersome, itâs only because I see potential in themâpotential they may not yet see in themselves. I genuinely root for them, believing they are capable of so much more.
As responsible or irresponsible as I may appear, I refuse the well-trodden path of safety and push myself onto the more perilous route. Not out of recklessness, but so I can be a living testament for those who yearn to defy societal expectations, to prove to my brothers and peers that there is always another wayâa path that doesnât demand the sacrifice of the relationships that truly matter, the ones not defined by deadlines, GPAs or conformity.
As arrogant or humble as I might be perceived, I willingly take on the hardest tasks, the ones I despise, all while wearing a mask of composure in university. I pretend that I am fine, that I am just another face in the crowd, while in truth, I am fighting a deep loneliness. I search for someone who can challenge my beliefs, someone who can understand the weight of my past and walk with me toward an uncertain future. Until then, I bear it allâthe struggle, the isolationâbecause I know that if I donât, no one else will.
Love and hatred are my fuelâlove for the people who shaped me, and hatred for the cage theyâre all trapped in. Every step I take to become stronger, every moment I spend building my resilience, only isolates me further. But Iâm willing to pay that price if it means I can save them, if it means I can break the chains that hold them back.
đĽ A Willingness to Walk Alone
Iâm not just fighting for myselfâIâm fighting to show my friends, my family, everyone around me, that thereâs another way. Iâm fighting to give them a glimpse of what real freedom looks like, a life where they donât have to sacrifice who they are just to survive. And maybe, if I succeed, theyâll see that they donât have to trade their dreams for safety, that they donât have to let life dictate their choices.
To me, though there are people who I once had faith in and somehow are now beyond saving; I still believe power is the be-all and end-all in this world. And if that belief means walking this path alone, then so be it. Iâd rather face the loneliness than watch the people I care about sink with the ship, unaware that the orchestra has been playing all along. Because in the end, I know whatâs at stake. I know that if I donât stand up, if I donât keep fighting, then every sacrifice, every struggle, will have been for nothing. And I canât accept thatânot for me, not for them.
Final Words
đ Standing Against the Flow
Life isn’t about settling into the mold society has laid out for us; itâs about questioning it, breaking it, and building something truer. Itâs about rejecting the illusion of safety that conformity brings and forging a path thatâs entirely your own. Here at ElegantEchos, we honor the journey of those who refuse to sink quietly, who stand against the tide to create a life of meaning and purpose. đâ¨
This blog isnât for the faint-hearted; itâs for the dreamers and rebels who know that greatness is born in the shadows of struggle. If youâve ever felt out of place, like youâre walking a road no one else understands, youâre not aloneâthis space was built for you.
đ Explore More from ElegantEchos:
- đ Reflections: Unfiltered thoughts on lifeâs turning points and the lessons they teach us.
- đ¤ Relationships: Love, friendships, and family stories that shape who we are.
- đ Ambitions: The grind, the goals, and the dreams that keep us moving forward.
- đŞď¸ Unfiltered Rants: When life throws curveballs, hereâs where I let it all out.
đ Dive Into My Other Blogs:
- đď¸ââď¸ TrainingEchos: Everything about fitness, from nutrition and recovery to martial arts and even recipes.
- đź WealthEchos: Insights into branding, tools, solopreneurship, investment, and mindset.
- đ§ MindsetEchos: Shift your perspective and embrace the mindset of resilience and success.
đ Letâs Grow and Inspire Together
Connect with me on LinkTree or stay a while here on ElegantEchos to dive deeper into lifeâs big questions. ElegantEchos is more than a blog; itâs a call to action for anyone who refuses to settle. Itâs for those who dare to defy the system, fight for their dreams, and embrace the struggle that shapes us.
If this post resonated with you, leave a comment or share it with someone whoâs also fighting to create something extraordinary. Together, weâll show the world whatâs possible. đ đ
