I'm Finally Engaged

It's the 9th of April 2025.

I’m engaged.

It’s happening.

Guys, I’m engaged.

I didn’t think I’d say that this early in life. But here I am, standing in the middle of my tiny room, socks mismatched, Wi-Fi barely holding on, and I can’t hold it in anymore.

I’m engaged.

It’s not flashy. There was no sunset proposal, no soft background music, no bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket. Just a chair that squeaks when I move, notes spread like a battlefield across my bed, and a heart that’s quietly… committed.

People have noticed something’s up. I’ve been quiet. Missing from the group chats. Ghosting my friends mid-convo. Walking around like I’m always solving some deep philosophical crisis—when really, I’m just trying to figure out what Harvard referencing even is.

It’s not love in the traditional sense. No late-night calls, no secret smiles, no matching hoodies. Just long hours. Heavy books. To-do lists that multiply like they’re on steroids.

I’m always with her. She’s clingy. Overbearing. And somehow still seductive. She whispers things like “Due tomorrow” and “Start over” and “You’re already behind”. She doesn’t give me flowers. She gives me PDFs, footnotes, and anxiety.

We don’t go on dates. Unless you count library visits, where the lights buzz overhead and no one talks. Or those special late-night study sessions where it’s just me, my laptop, and an existential crisis.

She makes me sweat. Literally. Not from desire, but from panic. Panic because I’ve got three submissions due in the same week and a laptop that sounds like it’s about to take off.

I can’t afford much. I eat bread like it’s gourmet. I romanticise noodles like they’re a love language. But somehow, I still show up for her. Still give her everything I’ve got.

She’s relentless. But I keep showing up.
Because I’m loyal.
Because I said yes.

So yeah, I’m engaged.

To long nights. To endless emails. To group work where I carry everyone. To that thrill of finishing an assignment with 3 minutes to spare. To learning, even when it hurts.

I didn’t put a ring on it.
I put my name on the class list.
And that was enough.

I’m not planning a wedding. I’m planning survival.
No honeymoon—just a hopeful graduation.

Guys, I’m engaged.
And it’s complicated.
But I’m in it.
Fully.

Engaged. Not to a person. But to purpose.
And maybe that’s the kind of love that lasts longest anyway.