If my life was a book, I would believe that my life before I came to Melbourne was a preface. In the preface, it will introduce how lucky I was with my family and friends. After I graduated, I worked but something was missing to complete my own life. The moment when I turned the page and the first chapter began was after I was encouraged by my parents to go abroad and we decided together that my opportunities to improve my English had arrived.

I would like the page at the beginning of my first chapter to be as colourful as the autumn in Melbourne. I could go to the Botanical Gardens and see around me many trees which were losing their leaves. In compensation, the floor was gaining a blanket of leaves.

Certainly, there would be a world map with a special paper. In this map, I could point out the countries where my friends are from. I have made friends who are amazing and I will never forget them in all my life.

In the next pages, there will be a gallery of pictures and phrases typical of ‘Aussie’ culture, for example “No worries” and “How’s going, mate?” and “Magical coffee”. I always listen to these expressions and I really realise that I could be living a dream so I love listening to them in the streets and in the stores. For the pictures, I would like to choose one photograph of a kangaroo and me. This photograph will make me remember about Gumbuya Park where I fed kangaroos and I could see koalas and more native animals and birds. It was an unforgettable day.

I would include how much I have discovered about my own life. I am more confident, not only about my English language skills but nowadays I know that I am able to do whatever I want wherever I go. Being in Melbourne made me believe in the strength within me. The book of my life is still a work in progress and I have many blank sheets to fill. Melbourne is the beginning of my journey and I can see many possible ways to follow.

I once heard an interesting quote – “All journey is about escape”. That, I partially agreed to. My journey in Melbourne is an exciting one. One I can say is an escape, but frankly speaking, it is an inspiration.

Melbourne has a touch of art and culture. The diversity of it always amazes me. As an international student, I have lived in both main cities in Australia, Sydney and Melbourne. It is hard to say which is better, but to tell the truth, I like Melbourne. Not only because it has the magnificent Flinders Street Station, but also because of its infamously late public transport.

Where I live in Melbourne, I have to take two buses, and another train to get to where I am studying. I remember it was last week, I had a late night class and when I arrived at the train station, it was already pretty late. So I took the fastest train I could to come home. The train was almost empty and there weren’t any officers patrolling at the station or on the train. I was pretty scared because it was my first week in Melbourne so I don’t really know the city. I’ve heard all about Melbourne before I came here was negative about after dark. For every stop the train stopped at, I looked out of the window to see if there’s anyone suspicious.

When I got off the train, large heavy rain drops were falling down from the sky, and I didn’t have my umbrella on me! I hurried to the bus stop and took the first bus to my first stop. However, when I checked for the next bus’s schedule, it showed that the last bus at this bus stop left thirty minutes ago! It dawned on me that I now have two choices, either take a taxi home or, I can walk for another hour to get home. Just as I was weighing my options, the bus driver who was on the same bus earlier asked me where I wanted to go. I told him the address and then he said to me, “Hop on the bus, if I’m fast then I won’t affect the schedule.” So I did what I was told and he took me to a stop much closer to where I live. I thanked him for his generous gesture, but the only thing he said was, “It’s my pleasure.” Then he drove off.

In conclusion, I was inspired by this kind gesture of his. You can say it’s a small matter, but to me, for a guy who was caught in the storm and the cold, it meant the world to me. I am truly surprised to find such a nice and warm-hearted person in a city that changes weather at all times. This inspired me to want to help more people when I can. A small gesture could mean something.

“Ood orning,” said the bus driver.

I pretended that I did not hear him because I was wearing earphones. As I got on the bus, my eyes darted around to pick the perfect seat in mere seconds. Everyone stared at me. I could really feel their eyes on me as I was walking all the way to the back of the bus.

I had social anxiety.

Not a day went by without me tormenting myself why some basic daily situations could be such struggles for me. Even striking up casual small talk ranged from somewhat daunting to downright terrifying, especially when I was volunteering for the Bendigo Easter Festival that day. Despite how passionate I am about helping the community, the thought of socialising with new folks was draining.

When I showed up at Rosalind Park, I flinched at a blast of noise from the crowd. The activity area was a circus tent where people were juggling balls and spinning plates. I met the entertainment provider who told me that my role was simply to manage the circus craft tables, and probably assist with the bump in and bump out of equipment. ‘They all seemed doable; at least there would not be much communication involved’ – I tried to con myself into positivity.

Two hours later, although there had been times when I had to demonstrate how to make the crafts with verbal instructions, I managed to keep the talking to a minimum. I dispensed nods, laughed at some overheard jokes and waved goodbye. It was up to par until a man came into the tent when I was sprucing up the table. In between quick glances, I noticed that he was a middle-aged man, tall and of average build, with dark smudges under his eyes. He approached and offered me his hand.

“Where are you from, young man?”

“I’m…from Vietnam.” I was so confused. People usually start a conversation with ‘Hello, how are you?’ rather than asking where I come from.

“Ahhh wonderful! I want you to know that you’re more than welcome to stay in Australia!” He beamed.

“Oh…thank you!” I shrunk from his eye contact.

He ensconced himself into the seat in front of me, and started talking about the history of the festival. My anxiousness kicked in. All I could do was nod my head. After a while, he suddenly said:

“Now, have a seat and tell me why you look so edgy when you’re doing such an amazing job here.”

I wordlessly stared at him while my left brain was working its socks off to come up with the most convincing excuse on earth. But when I was just about to utter the words, my conscience stopped me from ‘lying’ to this respectable man. My honesty won out. I grabbed a chair and sat down facing his direction.

“Can I…be honest with you?” I asked him.

“Fire away, son.”

“I have social anxiety.” I spilt my guts. “I’m always that anxious, shy and nerve-wrecked when I’m with other people. I even try to avoid talking to everyone even though I wish I could. I just can’t. There’s always something that holds me back.”

“You’re afraid everyone judges you, aren’t you?” His gaze went straight into my soul.

“Yes. I am. I’m afraid they find out about how irrelevant I am. I do things people my age don’t. I like classic music and movies and I read psychology books. You see, I’m very boring. I just…don’t fit in.” I tried to withhold my tears.

“Why fit in when you can stand out? Why so self-conscious when you can love yourself?” He straightened his back.

“What do you mean by that?”

He leaned towards and tapped me on the shoulder. 

“Be yourself, son.” He allowed a pause to let those words sink in before he continued.

“I once went through the same predicaments. I was so different that I became so fearful of even the smallest interactions with everyone. Then I started to redeem myself just to…fit in. Until one day, I realised that the best person I could be was me. I was born an original, why do I need to be a copy of someone else? We’re all different. Why change ourselves? So be proud of who you are! All the personality traits you have make you unique. And more importantly, trust everyone, trust us.”

“Trust you?”

He nodded. “Yes, have faith in us. We do not judge anyone. We embrace difference. It’s your anomalies that enrich this world. You’re part of our community, darl!”

I mulled over what he had said on my way to the station. When I crossed the footbridges, my eyes met those of a woman, she murmured ‘Thank you!’ At that very moment, everything just made sense to me. I realised that it is absolutely fine to be different. It is okay to tell corny jokes, enjoy weird music, and do activities purely for the purpose of enjoying them. 

Because they are things that wholly and authentically shape who I am. Self-hate only drives me further into a hole that I could not climb out of. There is no need to fret over those stereotypes, judgements or prejudices because I am living in such an immense and nurturing community. There are thousands of people out there who accept me for who I truly am. I can be a little kooky but they still welcome me with open arms. They are all around me. It is the lady who smiled at me on a bridge. It is the elderly man who was willing to listen to me pouring my heart out. And it is the bus driver who greets me with a friendly ‘Hello!’

The rumbling of the bus interrupted my thinking. As the door opened, what the man had said quickly ran through my mind ‘Trust us!’ I removed my earphones.

“Hello, how are ya?” said the driver.

“‘Hi, I’m very well, thank you!” I smiled.