Monday, December 19, 2011

truth



The numerous times since I last threw a little bit of myself here, have been teetering the verge of tumultuous. Each time I opened the tab to punch in perspectives of my emotions ( because I find the notions of sorting, penning down my thoughts a way of dealing with the junk in my trunk), I find myself closing it before I even lay my finger on the keys. I decide to turn away and maybe ' tomorrow I'd feel better '. What a lying coward I am.





Before I know it, I'm like the kid who waits till the last minute and as the clock chimes twelve... realises that the term 'procrastination' is an evil, evil thing. Now with the blocks of perplexing emotions stacked high, my mind does a mental shuffle, nimble fingers brushing through each, deciding ... deciding.






I guess I'll start with this incident, 2 days back on a supposedly lovely Saturday morning which I wake up to the shrill screeching of the matriach's voice to get my ass out of bed for school at 8.30. I pull my heavy entire body of that lovely piece of heaven and go through the entire morning routine.





At 8.15, with bag on my shoulder and jacket on, I kiss J goodbye and before I could make my gracious exit out the room... The matriach enters. Shrieking at the top of her voice, telling me I'm going to be late, telling me what stress I've caused her, that she had to stay up the entire night just to make sure I'd get myself to school on time. Bewildered, I just had to defend myself , 8.15 is perfect for me to leave the house and be in school on time, plus wasn't I all ready? On my way out of the room?





As always, matriach ignores my stand, continues shrieking thoughts of only what matters to her. Her emotions over the rational facts served on a silver platter to her. I'm not in the wrong. Her unreasonable emotions over my perfectly rational ones.





I make my way out quietly, gently closing the door, my way of saying ' cease fire '. Before I could take 2 steps down the stairs, BOOM. Something is thrown, BAM yet another thing and it doesn't stop. A supposedly subtle yet absolutely clear sign to send me on a guilt trip that I fucked up. That yet again I'm at fault. That nooo, since when does sense make sense.




It's me again.




Like all the times the family is late, " OH, it's the little one taking so long to get ready" oh really? You mean I wasn't 'ready' when I sat at the stool watching every one still strapping on their shoes and scurrying around? Like all the unfair times when I'm the residential punching bag because no one else is here to take the hit. Cue primary school, then unreasonable psycho matriach of the matriach ... QUEEN matriach, annoints me as piece of dough meant to be punched in. Primary 3, brother comes home late because he's in secondary school, ESCAPES ARROW ! I take the hit. Secondary 1, brother comes home later because he's in polytechnic, ESCAPES ARROW AGAIN! I take the hit. Finally polytechnic, I get to escape? *runs as far as I can*




Only to now realise, I ran out of the pan into the fire. Brother is once again, out of reach tucked into the sanctuary called 'hostel' while I'm home to take another hit.




Can you blame me for wanting to run sometimes? But sadly chained to the ankles by 'responsibility' that sends me home all the time? Is it fair that just because I'm here, just because I never talk back out of respect, I should deserve any less? Even without the subjective 'respect', I earnestly believe that 'rationality' entitles me to more.




Sure, my brother had 4 years more time with my dad than I did, but it's never bothered me. Never been a point to justify that " I give in to you more than your brother because I feel bad that you spent lesser time with your father. " Since when has that ever matter to me?




Two an a half years, that's the time I had with him...since i was born. Sure, tears well up in my eyes when I look at an entire family with everyone in place, but that's only because I think about how different things growing up would have been like if he was around. Around to be the pillar of support I believe a family should have, financially and emotionally, the role of the man of the house. Other than that, no. I don't have enough fond memories of that man to know that his absence hit me hard just for who he is. In fact fragments of memories and stories pieced together, harsh as it sounds, tell me that I'm better of without. Just all that alone, a small nudge of his presence has made him the second man in my family to fuck up my beliefs. That alone affects me enough, would I have liked to see him stay behind, hussy by the side with the possibilty of tearing my family further apart because of some slut? NO. I'd rather the matriach a widow than a divorcee cheated upon.




So why is it that despite my firm stand it still seems to be a consensus that I've been gievn more privileges? I mean, seriously, before the time of being the residential dartboard came by, what was there to 'give in to me' to? What? That additional useless barbie, or that freaking last cookie? What?




Because from what I know, I've always been an easy kid to deal with, the entire checklist that parents sent to santa to have their little tod come out as, was practically formed with me in mind. Save for my occasion dragon faces. Other than that, raising me was a fuckingwalkinthepark.




Despite that entire slew of shit the family went through, I still kept by my stand. I still kept silent even when I wanted to shout back, I still studied when all I wanted was to escape, I still cared for every single one despite wanting to bolt. I had to tread on mines of emotions, gently, carefully, having in mind only the sake of keeping the bomb safe rather than keeping my limbs. All the while being that silent dartboard.




And you know what's really sad? That it wasn't enough.




That all I did, within the best of my means. Wasn't. Enough.




Nobody saw that not having to even grace the 20 mile radius of my school for the parent-teacher meeting as privilege. It was expected. Getting first in class? Oh, what's there to even raise an eyebrow at? It was expected. Topping the entire school? Celebration? What celebration? It was fucking expected. Dealing with the shit at home whilst being the perfect kid every parent wanted to call their own and every teacher wanted to teach? No big deal. It was expected.




For god's sake, I was just like every other kid out there, GROWING UP. I needed guidance, no one was there. I needed a listening ear, no one was there. I needed my mum when i called her saying i could no longer take the emotional abuse i had from my grandma, but she wasn't there.




But back then I never lamented or blamed any one for what I didn't have, I made do with what I had. I told myself, 'there are others worse off than me'. But now i realise, it's a lie told just to comfort myself that actually, the shit I'm in wasn't that deep, when actually it was.




Going through all that was always okay with me, sure it shook me up, messed up my head. But it was always alright with me, until now. Because now, unfair comparisons are being made, pushed to my face on an almost daily basis, that I'm fucked up. When really?




Sure, my results are shit, I'm retaking a year, I'm smoking, I have tattoos, I have piercings and suddenly I'm the spawn of satan? Suddenly I'm to be looked at with disdain and sad eyes that what has happened to ' that sweet child ' ? Suddenly it's forgotten that I was the one who brought glory to the family, who gave each and every one of you bragging rights because no one even in the extended family has surpassed such laurels at that age, who turned out fine even amidst the bullshit? That despite all that's happening now, I'm keeping my ass in this course I've wanted to quit since the end of the first year just to save your face? My happiness, my future can't even be compared to your 'face'? How you'd lie just to cover up my mess up in the academic charts so you could still have bragging rights that your daughter was in that hard to get in ' vet tech ' course. Why are you even ashamed of me? Ashamed of who I am now?




Does it not matter to you that what I messed up in, I've made up for? I've been earning my own keep since I was 16, how many kids can say that? That despite being thrown into the night life I've never gotten lost in it. I work in it, yet I never got sucked it. I'm never mindlessly blowing cash away on partying because i choose to work instead. I fuck up at times then i try to put things into place, push myself harder, juggle school, dance and work. You say you do not need me to work. Seriously? Despite me not opening my mouth to get a cent out from you, you complain that you don't have enough. What happens when you start to HAVE to support me, FULLY? Can you give me that 500-1k i earn a month for necessities, small gifts for myself, my savings and for my future plans? You can't. And I've NEVER expected you to, that's why I chose to take things into my own hands. But rather than being appreciative that you have a daughter who thinks about you and her own future, you chose to focus on only the bad stuff. The fact that working eats into my rest, my studying time. When for fuck's sake I knew from year one that this course wasn't going to get me anywhere, that's why I wanted to switch, but no, your ego was more important. Wagging tongues ruffled your feathers more than throwing your daughter's future down the drain.




You compare me and then, how i could do it then, why can't i do it now? Because back then I loved what I was studying, I knew that my hardwork could pay off, I knew that doing well in this could get me someplace I wanted and better. But now? I've trudged 3 years mindlessly through a course to an industry I knew from so long ago that I would not end up stepping foot in. Goal : to excel in what I do. Destination: to get that fucking diploma. I'm reaching my destination, but my goal is nowhere in sight. Do you know how much extra effort it takes to accomplish something with no goal?




You compare me to my brother. Scholar at NTU, ' oh the boy has matured ' 'why are you screwing up now and giving me such a headache'? Have you forgotten that he once scraped the bottom of all the classes he was in and only saved himself at the final moments at key exams. Yet his results were nowhere near mine. You want to compare? Here's blatant comparison for you.




Back the while he was giving shit results, nobody gave a fuck. OH, it's a natural thing for boys to mature later. And back then when I didn't get FIRST, I got shit from her. Doesn't matter if I was in the top 3, as long as that coveted '1' didn't appear, i was made to feel like I wasn't worth anything. You didn't do it, but you allowed her to get away with it. How is this even fair? So it's natural for boys to mature later and fuck up when their younger but not for girls. I matured at 10, how is that even natural at all? It was a fucking privilege. That no one saw.




So my brother gets $25 a week for pocket money in secondary school because he asks for it and 'eats more' while i get $10-$15? Just because i don't ask for anything, just because i don't want you to have to tighten your pocket strings, just like now? I saved as much as I could barely even spending on food. It's a privilege you had back then. It's a privilege you still have now. But it doesn't seem to matter. Because my results are still like shit.




Back then when I had a chance to head out with friends on weekends i chose to roam around town alone waiting for you to end work. Where was my brother then? Did you ever ask? Where was my brother when I was back at her place being the punching bag? Where's my brother now most of the time when I'm here to be your punching bag now? Just because he's home in the weekends suddenly it overwrites the fact that I'm home every single day of the weekdays before you get home? Who is here to talk to you during the stressful weekdays with work, the key moments when you need someone? It doesn't matter that it's me just because I'm not around during weekends for bulk of it? So quantity over quality? What about the quantity I gave to everyone else back then, it no longer counts.




I was always told not to compare, but I was never one to compare, you were.
And from where I'm standing, you lose.
Here's the calling of blatant favoritism in flashing neonlights.
And you know what, I'm tired of caring so much, of going the extra mile so badly to the best of my means, because, it simply is never enough.
I doubt it'll ever be.

2 comments:

  1. Enjoyed the read..guilty and scary at the same time. Guilty as I've experienced similar on both sides..the "victim" as well as "perpetrator". Scary because I felt so strongly being both. And your post helps to ground me again. I would say simply that a child loves her parents and parents love their child...really! But we fxxk up big time in expressing the love. Hang in there, as you said before, this too shall pass. But life continues, so don't throw it away just yet.

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  2. thank you (: as it always goes, ' life goes on' I'm guessing you're pang? :D

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