Which essay is better?

Essay 1

The persistent rain tapped against the window of my dorm room, a haunting reminder of the turmoil inside me. I was engulfed in silence, weighed down by a heavy sense of betrayal. My friends, once my confidants, began spreading false rumors, distorting the truth into a grotesque lie. Their sharp glances and cold shoulders echoed their judgment wherever I went. Accused of stealing a mobile phone, I soon found myself scrutinized by not only my peers but the dormitory supervisor as well. Despite offering to provide my fingerprints and even suggesting a private investigator, my pleas for truth fell on deaf ears. The accusation pressed down on me, making me feel like an outsider in a place that once felt like home. My appetite vanished, and for days I lay in despair, overwhelmed by the falsehood that had shattered my life.

Dark thoughts seeped into my mind, offering self-harm as a bleak escape. I questioned everything—how could those I trusted believe such a lie? I replayed countless conversations, searching for mistakes, but found only deeper pain. In the end, I made the difficult choice to leave the school, feeling both defeated and victorious. I had lost my home, but gained a new beginning.

In the midst of darkness, a flicker of hope surfaced. I turned to prayer, embracing the belief, "Habis gelap, terbitlah terang"—after darkness, light shall come. I realized my worth was not tethered to their approval but to my own strength and resolution. This understanding empowered me to move ahead.

Months later, the truth emerged—not through apologies, but through evidence. CCTV footage that once condemned me was reviewed, revealing I had only entered my own room, not the storage room where the phone was found. The footage had been misinterpreted. My accusers were compelled to acknowledge the truth, but their apologies arrived too late. By then, I had moved on.

After transferring, I began volunteering at a local children’s cancer ward. Surrounded by their laughter and resilience, I found strength in the simple moments we shared. Their joy amidst immense challenges sparked a renewal in me, teaching me to love life, others, and myself. Their courage illuminated my darkest times, showing me that my pain did not have to define me.

With time, I embraced my new freedom. The oppressive environment and lingering rumors of my former school no longer bound me. I lived a life free from judgment, and though scars remained, they were mere reminders of a past that no longer controlled me. I directed my energy into competitions and volunteering, finding purpose beyond my past. Each new achievement lightened my spirit, helping me shed the darkness that had once consumed me.

Reflecting on this journey, I see how it transformed me. No longer defined by gossip or the labels others placed on me, I stand empowered, embracing love in all its forms—love for myself, my passions, and those who inspire me. My story is not one of suffering, but of resilience, self-belief, and the enduring truth that light always emerges from the shadows

Essay 2

The rain poured relentlessly, each droplet tapping on the window of my dorm room like an insistent reminder of the storm brewing inside me. I sat on the cold floor, wrapped in a cocoon of silence, feeling the weight of betrayal hang heavy in the air. My friends, once confidants, now whispered behind my back, spreading false rumors that twisted the truth into something unrecognizable. The news of my expulsion had hit me like a physical blow, leaving me gasping for air in a world that had turned against me. I hadn’t eaten in two days, my hunger replaced by an overwhelming sense of despair. For three days, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, consumed by the knowledge that my love for a girl had cost me everything I once held dear.

In those dark moments, I battled thoughts that clawed at the edges of my mind, urging me to slip away into oblivion. The urge to self-harm whispered seductively, promising a release from the pain that had become my constant companion. Each day felt heavier than the last, and I feared that my heart was turning into a blackened stone, void of light or love. I would lay on the floor, tracing the outlines of my past, each memory a dagger that pierced deeper into my soul. The world outside felt distant and unwelcoming, and I often wondered if anyone would even notice if I disappeared.

Amidst the swirling darkness, a flicker of hope ignited within me. I found solace in prayer, seeking guidance from a higher power. As I knelt on the cold tiles of my room, tears streaming down my face, I clung to the quote that had once been my mantra: “Habis gelap, terbitlah terang.” After darkness, light shall come. I realized that my true revenge against the pain and betrayal was to rise above it. I envisioned a future where I could be a different person, transformed by my suffering.

A week after my expulsion, I volunteered at a local children’s cancer ward. Surrounded by laughter and hope, I felt a surge of strength within me. These children faced battles far greater than my own, yet their smiles illuminated my darkest corners. Together, we engaged in crafting sessions, painting joy on their faces. With every paper cut and paint splash, I discovered the power of love—love for life, for others, and, eventually, for myself. They reminded me that even in despair, there is joy to be found.

As time passed, life began to shift. I embraced my freedom, no longer bound by the oppressive walls of my former school. I could eat when I wanted, walk where I desired, and breathe without the weight of judgment on my shoulders. I channeled my energy into international competitions and poured my heart into volunteering, a reminder that my purpose extended beyond my past. With each achievement, I felt lighter, shedding layers of darkness that had once engulfed me.

In reflection, I understand now that my journey through darkness shaped me into who I am today. I am no longer defined by my secrets or the labels others have placed upon me. Instead, I stand empowered, ready to embrace love in all its forms—love for myself, for my passions, and for those who inspire me. My story is not just one of suffering; it is a testament to resilience