Growing up, I've always been a girl who loves to write. Maybe it's because my mother taught me to. She has always loved buying me books, be it diaries, sketchbooks, notebooks or even log books for me to collect biodata of people around me. She never stopped encouraging me to write, to express, to be honest with myself through words. And I did. I learned that writing makes me feel lighter. It's like putting the heavy parts of your heart somewhere safe, somewhere you can revisit when you're ready.

During my school years, my teachers also encouraged this habit. Every Monday assembly, no... basically every day, we had to bring a notebook to jot down whatever was said. It could be something important, or completely random, but the rule was simple: catat apa yang awak dengar. Sometimes I'd doodle instead, but most of the time I'd write.. words, phrases, announcements, anything that I heard that stuck in my head.

Then, one day, a teacher from high school said something that really stayed with me:

    "Write everything. Your thoughts, your tasks, your goals. So that you can see them."

And I've held on to that since. Because when you write, you're not just remembering. You're freeing your mind. You don't have to carry everything inside your head. Some things deserve to be written down so that you can focus on what's in front of you. Writing, to me, is a way of letting your mind breathe. It's also a way to mark moments...like..like a 'witness'(?) or exhibit that you were once there, that you existed, that you lived.

Then I entered my foundation year in law school. I still remember one lecturer telling us that law requires a lot of writing. I smiled when I heard that, because I've always believed that law and writing go hand in hand. Everything in law starts from words... a contract, a judgement, a letter. All of them begin with writing.

But when I entered my professional year, I met a lecturer who believed otherwise. I still remember the moment clearly. My classmates and I were taking notes in that lecturer's class when they suddenly said, "No, put your pens down. There's nothing to jot down here. I don't want to see anyone writing in my class. As a lawyer, use your brain to remember." I froze for a while because what she said went against everything I believed in and was taught. I thought they only said that during that particular day of our class, but nope. That's just their way of teaching. Honestly, I understood what she meant, that a lawyer should train their mind to think quickly and remember details without relying too much on notes. But at the same time, I couldn't fully agree. Merely because the concept of not wanting to see a single note taking to me is just not it... for a student.

We are human. We are not machines, not robots, nor AI. We cannot possibly store everything in our heads. There was a point where I actually tried to follow her advice. I stopped writing, I stopped taking notes, I tried to rely only on my brain. But at the end of the day, I felt burnt out. I couldn't see my own trail. I knew what I did, but I couldn't see it. There were no footprints, no words, no reflection to go back to. I just moved forward without remembering much how far I'd come. 

And recently, something happened that reminded me of why I believe so strongly in writing. A client angrily gave us a call asking about the progress for some sort of her case from 2016. I had no idea or anything about it as I was still in high school back in 2016. I was the one who picked up the call, so I couldn't help her much, but I did follow up with my master later. Later, my master asked me to find a file from 2016, a case involving a land grant. But after we found the file, the grant wasn't there. Nobody could remember exactly what happened, or where it went, or whether the client took it back. And in that moment, I thought: this is why documentation matters.

A simple note, even just one line. 'Client submitted land grant on yada yada' could have saved hours of searching and guessing (metaphor only hihi). It's such a small thing, but it makes a huge difference. But yknow what, the land grant ended up being in another firm's possession huhu, not us. This incident reminded me that when I become a lawyer (officially soon), I want to write things down, every single thing. It doesn't matter how small it is, what documents the client gave, what they collected back, what was discussed, or what was done. Because one day, those small things might matter. 

Iknow some people say that writing doesn't mean anything in the end. That once you're gone, your words can't even stand as evidence in court. And I know that. But to me, that's not the whole point. I don't write for others. I write for myself. As long as I live, my words belong to me. They remind me of what I've been through, what I've done, and who I am becoming.

Maybe it's because I was raised by a mother who believes in the power of words, or maybe it's because I know how easily we forget. But I've always believed that every word written is a footprint, a quiet proof that you've lived. 

So yes, my lecturer wasn't entirely wrong. A lawyer must train their mind to think and remember. But I still believe that even the sharpest mind needs somewhere to rest. Writing gives that rest. Because writing is not just about remembering, it's about being. And as long as I live, I'll keep writing.

After all, there's an old Chinese proverb that says, "The faintest ink is better than the strongest memory." And I couldn't agree more.

Love, Nadhirah Rizal⋆