“Dear Me,” it began, and I froze—because the handwriting on the page was mine, yet it spoke of regrets I hadn’t lived yet. My heart pounded as I read the next line:

"If you’re reading this, it means there’s still time to change what I couldn’t."

My hands trembled as I held the paper, the weight of its message sinking in. All I had was the letter and my own spiraling thoughts.

"You chose this path, not because you wanted it, but because you thought you had to. Science was never the answer for you …it was for them. And now, I live with the consequences. But you… you can still rewrite our destiny."

The words stung. I didn’t need an explanation to know what it meant. Deep down, I had always known. I loved writing. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was the one thing that made me feel alive. Yet here I was, burying it under equations and experiments, all because society had deemed it “practical” to take the science stream.

"Do you remember the stories you used to write? The way you’d fill pages with worlds that didn’t exist and characters that felt more real than some of the people you knew. I remember. I remember the joy it brought you the joy it brought us.”

A lump formed in my throat as memories flooded back—late nights spent scribbling in notebooks, the thrill of weaving plots and playing with words. But then came the endless comparisons, the whispered suggestions, the outright pressure: “Science will open more doors for you. It will let you choose” I let it brainwash me till I was utterly spent. But was it even true? Will it let me be who I want to be?

"But let me tell you what’s behind the doors hidden behind all the books and respect gained: mediocrity. Not because science isn’t useful, but because it isn’t you. I’m 24 now, and I feel like I’ve betrayed myself. My potential, my passion, my purpose in life. All sacrificed to make others happy. And I’m begging you, don’t let this be your future, put yourself first for once. You have 2 years left to decide your fate."

I had to stop reading. My chest felt tight, the words swirling like a storm in my mind. Was this real or was it some bizarre joke?

I looked at the letter again. There was more.

"If you’re brave enough to defy expectations, to listen to your heart instead of others, I promise you, it will be worth it. The decision won’t be easy; you will soon realise nothing worthwhile ever is—but it will be yours. And isn’t that what matters?"

Tears welled in my eyes. For years, I had silenced that voice inside me, convincing myself that I was doing the right thing. But this letter was like a warning from a future I didn’t want to live, a future I could still change.

"This is your choice now. Your chance to reclaim who we are. Don’t let yourself down.

- Yours,

The You That Could Have Been."

I stared at the letter, its words burning into my soul. Suddenly, the textbooks piled on my desk felt suffocating, their weight symbolic of the words of society and its beliefs.

Did I really want to sacrifice my happiness for the shred of respect I would get from society? Do I want to be like the kids who did so without even a thought in their mind about their choice and what they wanted to be?

This wasn’t just about choosing a stream It was about rewriting a destiny I hadn’t even realized was being written for me. It was about getting to choose what I wanted my future to look like. And this time, the pen would be in my hands.

2 years later...

As I sit there in that same room on the same desk with the paper in my hand. The paper that would seal my fate. The Stream Selection Form. The silent expectations of my family suffocated me with pressure. Holding the pen in my trembling hands, I go back to that day. The day I got the letter. Do I want to change my destiny or do I want to make society happy? The choice is heavy on my heart.

My family expected me to walk out of my door with the form filled with the beliefs of humanity. They expected me to fill it according to the outright pressure of science.

Regardless of the expectations, my heart was set on who I wanted to be as a person. I wanted to be in control of my own life. I wanted to create worlds of characters who had my heart, the plots that swirled in my mind all day long. I wanted to create lives.

The only thing that held me back was the prospect of me forever regretting the choice made by my naïve self. What if I realised a few years down the line that I had made a grave mistake?

With the choice heavy on my heart it felt as if this was the moment that would describe the trajectory of my future. As I sit on the chair I see two roads in front of my eyes. One that symbolized wealth and respect and another that symbolized happiness and serenity.

On the road of science, I would be accompanied by many as far down as I look. There will always be people to support me but I would still be filled with disappointment in myself. While on the other I would be the lone traveller yet I would be happy. They both looked just as fair, the science one having perhaps the better claim of wealth.

And when I walked out the door, I said it with my head held high that I was going to choose myself above others for once. I told my family that I was going to take the road less travelled, the one that I know would make me happy.

I saw the disappointment in their faces but in the corner of the room stood my brother unlike others he smiled and I sensed a feeling of sheer pride. He was proud of me for rewriting my destiny.

.    .    .