30 & 31 May 2025
It’s strange how energy moves when a chapter is closing. I’d already decided to return to KL, bus booked and mind made up, yet it feels like I’m being pushed from every angle to leave sooner. I’m lying low, doing my best not to stir anything up, but this pendulum just won’t stop swinging until it runs out of momentum on its own. The person responsible isn’t going to reach out, and I can’t control it any more than I’ve already tried.
There have been small but blatant moments of unfairness I’ve forced myself to ignore — allowances made for others that were never made for me, gifts given that I didn’t receive, the way a tent was set up and prepared well in advance for Abby and Kate, with welcome photos taken as they settled in. In contrast, my arrival was a confused scramble to find me a space, as if no one even knew I was coming — despite my dates being confirmed and re-confirmed.
I can accept when personalities simply don’t mesh, but the kind of uneven treatment I’ve received is not okay — especially considering I’ve worked harder than anyone else here, often covering the duties of two people alone.
Instead of savouring my final days in this paradise, I feel disconnected. The magic is gone. I’ve tried to stay polite, to do what’s needed, to focus on the beauty around me — but I have nothing left to give. Even today, when I knew a large group was arriving, I wasn’t given a single clear instruction on what was expected. No one told me how tents should be allocated or how meals would work. I didn’t have the energy to ask again. If they can’t brief me, I won’t force myself into the chaos.
Abby and Kate were off diving again — another free pass they’ve been given — while I’ve been previously denied time off outside my single rest day. Then, without warning, the new group arrived at 9am, hours before check-out. Forty people. Tents still occupied, nothing ready. The other girls were just as clueless as I was.
When the manager asked if everything was ready, I simply said,
“I don’t know. I haven’t been told what we’re supposed to do.”
The flash of anger in his eyes was instant. His sarcastic reply snapped something in me. I looked him straight in the eye, told him to stop speaking to me like I was an idiot, and walked away. That was enough to make him explode — calling after me loudly, but I didn’t turn back. Whatever my faults, I will not be spoken to like that.
Back in my tent, the disappointment was bitter. If I could have left that moment, I would have. Later, I ran into him again. He said,
“You take today off, just relax, don’t worry about anything.”
I had nothing to say, so I nodded and walked away — permission granted to disappear to the far side of the beach.
Sitting on soft white sand under the shade of glowing green trees, I let the gentle hush of the waves wash the weight off me. Slowly, my enchanted state returned. This island is still magical — no matter what’s happened. And I finally understood what my soul has been telling me: it’s time to leave.
I may not excuse the treatment I’ve received, but I understand it. I’m ready to go, ready to pack my bag and say goodbye with a clean conscience, a smile, and gratitude in my heart.
