Uncertainties and A Resolution

Reducio

OOC: This is meant to progress Ming's own storyline, and neither he IC nor I OC expect a reply to this.

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Professor Jensen,

I know that this is a bad idea.

I don’t know what possessed me to pick up a pen and write this. It will probably be an unpleasant read, with my mind and thoughts all up in a frenzy. Perhaps you might not even find the time to look this over.

But. For the longest time, I have felt a prickling at the back of my mind, a quiet unease at my presence here in Hogwarts, which has only been growing and growing. I feel compelled to get it out of my mind, else it might cons-. Even if this is not a good idea. There are times I don’t even recognize the person I’ve

Always and forever, as far back as I can remember, I have always known what I wanted, and what was expected of me. That went out of the window here at Hogwarts.

For the first time in the longest while, I felt as though I did not belong.

What I thought I understood of normalcy, or acceptability, or reality all went out of the window; and physics-breaking activities such as conjuring or mind-boggling social norms like children’s access to wands occurred around me with alarming frequency.

My ideas clashed horribly with that of everybody here. Peers and seniors, even some Professors held views and beliefs and worldviews that I could not make sense of try as I might.

My first instinct had been to ball myself up, to retreat into what I knew. To try and stick on to the expectations of my parents: get good grades, have a solid plan for the future, and stick to that plan. But Hogwarts was never part of the plan. And every step I thought I took towards progress felt like a dozen steps back.

Maybe that is why I am writing to you. Because my parents would never understand this feeling. Of being lost at sea. Of nothing making sense. Of this helplessness, and hopelessness. Of feeling like I’m losing more myself every single day that I spend here. More and more like I was under water, and try and push as I might, I could not break the surface.

I could not breathe.

I tried to keep my grades up. I tried to stay abreast with the myriad of ‘quirky’ magical customs and ideas. I tried to live up to expectations. It took its toll on my body. But more importantly, I failed.

I failed to keep my grades up. I failed to keep myself and my friends safe.

I failed to hold on to the world I came from, just as I failed to grasp onto the world I stepped into.

It was only recently that I had come to make sense of it all, silly as it might seem to you.

This world is magic, and I have been approaching it with a dispassionate and cynical worldview. And magic does not lend itself well to bloody closemindedness and the lack of a sense of wonder. To the constant gnawing feeling at the back of the mind that something was just an inch from going horribly wrong. To the fear that everything would fall apart, if only I would dare to take a moment to be anything less than perfect.

But, I came to realize that this is what is expected of me here. To just….let go, and let the world happen to me.

It feels….. wrong. Like I am somehow breaking many unspoken rules of my upbringing.

And perhaps that’s why I’m writing to you. To be able to tell myself that, when I reached the point where I no longer knew what to do, I went to a responsible, in-control, adult.

Perhaps nothing will come of this. Perhaps you won’t read it. Perhaps I’ll get into trouble. I know not.

But going forward, I shall make an active effort to try and be more like the other children here at Hogwarts. To get involved in childish pranks and silly games, to shrug aside the obvious dangers of magic and society and…


And hopefully, it shall lead me to feeling less….out of place here.


Apology for the long rant, Professor.
Hope you have a good day ahead.


Hui Ming,
Slytherin First-Year
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