BEHIND THE SCREEN BY: NUR SYAZWINA BINTI ABDUL HAMID
Every night at 9 p.m., Melanie became someone else. Behind her phone screen, she was funny, confident, and fearless. Her social media account was filled with pictures of sunsets, carefully chosen songs, and captions that made her followers laugh. Online, she could start conversations without worrying about awkward silences or what people thought of her. At school, however, Melanie was completely different. She sat near the window, spoke only when necessary, and spent most of her breaks scrolling through her phone. Whenever her classmates laughed at a joke, she rehearsed a funny response in her head until the conversation moved on. Eventually, she stopped trying. Sometimes, she wondered whether everyone had received a guide to making friends except her. “You’re so quiet, Mel,” her classmate Mira once remarked. Melanie smiled. “I’m just tired.” It was easier than explaining that she never knew what to say. Drawing was different. With a pencil, Melanie could express things she struggled to put into words. She often drew sunsets, filling the skies with shades of purple, pink, and blue. However, she rarely showed anyone her darker drawings. While her social media followers saw bright colours and cheerful captions, her sketchbook held skies that looked lonely, even on beautiful evenings. She was afraid people would think she was being dramatic. Everything changed when she met Kai in an online art community. Kai was a stranger who shared her love for digital illustrations and indie music. Their first conversation was about a drawing of a girl standing beneath a purple sky. “The purple sky is beautiful,” Kai messaged, “but why does the girl look like she’s about to fight the moon?” Melanie laughed at her phone. “Maybe she is. The moon looks suspicious.” “That’s the worst explanation I’ve ever heard.”
“And yet, you’re still talking to me.” “Unfortunately, yes.” Melanie grinned. For once, she didn’t have to worry about whether her jokes sounded strange or whether she was saying too much. Kai didn’t make her feel awkward for being herself. Their conversations soon became part of her daily routine. They exchanged silly memes, shared artwork, and argued about music. “Your music taste is questionable,” she told Kai one evening. “Coming from someone who listens to the same song twenty times a day?” “It’s called having good taste.” “It's called being obsessed.” Melanie laughed before sending Kai a screenshot of her playlist. A few minutes later, Kai sent her a drawing of a city beneath a grey sky. “Be honest,” Kai wrote. “Is it boring?” Melanie studied the picture. The buildings were simple, but a tiny figure stood beneath a streetlight, holding an umbrella. “No. I like the person under the streetlight. They look like they're waiting for someone.” Kai took a while to reply. “I wasn't sure anyone would notice that.” “Maybe you should give people a chance to notice.” She sent the message without thinking much about it. Only after pressing send did she realise that she might have been talking about herself, too. Behind the screen, she could finally breathe. Slowly, Melanie began to trust Kai in a way she had never trusted anyone before. One evening, Melanie admitted something she had never said aloud. “Sometimes, I feel like nobody really knows me.” Kai replied almost immediately. “Maybe they haven’t had the chance to.”
Melanie stared at the message for a long time. She wanted to believe it, but the thought of letting someone see who she truly was frightened her. Online, she could choose which parts of herself to show. In person, she couldn’t edit her words before they left her mouth. A week later, their English teacher announced a group project titled A part of me. Each student was required to share an interest, experience, or personal story through a short presentation. Melanie’s stomach tightened. She was assigned to a group with Mira and two other classmates. During their first meeting, everyone enthusiastically suggested ideas while Melanie remained silent, pretending to take notes. “What about you, Melanie?” Mira asked. “What do you want to share?” Melanie looked up. “I don’t know.” “Come on. There must be something you’re interested in.” Melanie thought about her drawings, her music, and the conversations with Kai. There were so many things she wanted to say, yet none of the words seemed willing to leave her mouth. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” she muttered. That night, Melanie messaged Kai about the project. “I hate talking in front of people. Online, I can be whoever I want. In real life, I feel like I disappear.” Kai took longer than usual to respond. “Can I ask you something?” Kai typed. “Sure.” “Have you ever thought about what might happen if you let someone at school get to know you?” Melanie stared at the message, unsure what to reply. “I don’t know how to do that.” “Maybe you don’t have to figure it all out at once. I know talking to people is hard for you but you won’t know what might happen unless you give it a try.”
Maybe Kai was right. Maybe she needed to give herself a chance to speak up and let others see who she truly was. Melanie put her phone down and opened her sketchbook. Two drawings of the same sunset lay side by side. The first sunset was bright, with pink clouds and a glowing purple horizon. She had posted it online, where it received dozens of likes. The second was darker, with heavy clouds covering the fading sunlight. She had drawn it on a night when she had felt so lonely that even replying to messages seemed exhausting. She liked both drawings, but only one felt safe to share. The next morning, Melanie looked around her classroom. Mira was showing their group a collection of photographs she had taken over the weekend. One of the pictures showed a sunset spreading orange and pink across the sky. Melanie rehearsed her words silently, her fingers fidgeting beneath the table. She almost stayed quiet, as usual, but finally spoke. “That’s beautiful,” Melanie said quietly. Mira turned to her. “You think so?” Melanie nodded and gave her a little smile. “I like drawing sunsets. Especially purple ones.” “Wait, you draw?” For the first time, Melanie saw genuine curiosity on Mira’s face rather than the awkward politeness she had expected. “Yeah! I could show you some of them.” “Please do! We could use your drawings for our presentation!” Mira exclaimed excitedly. Melanie glanced at Mira, who was already asking to see more of her artwork. She had expected the conversation to end in awkward silence. Instead, Mira wanted to know which colours she used to paint the sky. That afternoon, Melanie showed her group several drawings. Everyone agreed that the bright sunset would look beautiful on their presentation slides. “What about this one?” Mira asked, pointing to the darker drawing. Melanie's smile faded slightly. “It's just something I drew.”
“I like it,” Mira replied. “It feels different from the others.” One of the other students leaned closer to the sketchbook. “Yeah, it looks kind of sad, but in a good way.” Melanie waited for someone to laugh or ask why she would draw something so gloomy. Nobody did. They simply moved on to discussing the presentation. Over the next few days, Melanie contributed illustrations to their project. She still stumbled over her words during discussions, and sometimes she retreated into silence. Whenever she struggled to explain her ideas, she paused to gather her thoughts before trying again. Her classmates waited for her to finish speaking instead of moving on without her. On presentation day, Melanie stood in front of the classroom with her drawings displayed on the screen. Her hands trembled. She was completely outside her comfort zone. She could almost hear the familiar voice in her head telling her to stay quiet, to let someone else speak, to return to the safety of her phone. The first slide showed her bright sunset. She explained how she enjoyed experimenting with colours and how drawing allowed her to express her creativity. Her voice shook, but she continued. Then the next slide appeared. It showed the darker sunset. For a moment, Melanie forgot what she had planned to say. She had almost removed that drawing from the presentation the night before. She had even replaced it with another bright illustration, but she changed her mind just before submitting the slides. Now, standing in front of her classmates, she wondered whether she had made a mistake. She looked at the drawing again. “This is another sunset I drew,” she began, her voice quieter than before. “It doesn't look as cheerful as the first one.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Sometimes, I draw things that I don't know how to explain. I used to think I had to make everything look happy before I could share it with anyone.” Her gaze moved across the classroom. Mira was listening, her chin resting on her hand.
“But I like this drawing, too. Even if it doesn't show a happy moment.” Melanie took a shaky breath and continued with the rest of the presentation. She stumbled over a few words, and once, she lost her place on the slide. Still, she managed to finish. The classroom fell quiet for a moment. Then Mira began clapping, followed by the rest of the group and their classmates. Afterward, Mira hurried over. “Can you teach me how to draw skies like that?” she asked, pointing at the darker sunset. Melanie blinked. “You want to learn that one?” “Of course! I want to know how you made the clouds look like that.” Melanie smiled. She had spent so long imagining the worst things people might think about her drawings that she had never considered someone might simply like them. That evening, she opened her conversation with Kai. “I did it,” she typed. “I actually presented in front of everyone.” “See? You survived,” Kai replied, followed by a laughing emoji. “Good job, I’m proud of you.” Melanie laughed. “I showed both sunsets, even the dark one.” “Wait, you showed the moon-fighting girl's emotional backstory?” “Wrong drawing, genius.” “Still proud of you.” She smiled at the screen before typing another message. “Also, your city drawing wasn't boring. I was right.” “Don't let it get to your head.” “Too late.” Melanie put her phone down and walked to the window. Outside, the sky was turning purple, its colours spreading softly across the evening clouds.
She returned to her desk, opened her sketchbook, and began drawing. When she finished, she didn't reach for her phone to photograph it or wait for someone to like it. She simply sat there, looking at the page. For once, the moment was enough. And so was she.