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Tuesday, February 20, 2007
If a home doesn't make sense, nothing does.-Henrietta Ripperger
Yest night, I went back to the self i was two years ago. I came across this entry.....
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Beautiful night. A little humid. But as i dressed myself, i felt, maybe for once, i could be beautiful. I had carefully built my image over the past year, choosing clothing that appeals to me, even if the clothes stimes earn weird/critical remarks from my family (cos they are very un-mainstream), carefully building up my self-confidence.. but then..
"wahz... wads with your hair? where u go and do one? that hairband (stars hairband) too bling-bling le.. dun match"
"wahz.. wad happened to you? there was a period i remembered u lost weight! (sec school period-10 yrs ago) u looked so pretty then! now ur arm is twice the size of ur arm then! why u put back on all the weight?"
"aiyoz... , why u never help ur elder sis put on make-up? ur one so nice.. u never help her put? oh ya, put le oso no use. her face beyond repair oso"
"i should have told you u r ugly when u were a kid. As the chinese superstition says, telling kids they are ugly when they are young, the reverse will happen. they'll grow up to be beautiful adults. now ah.. too late le..."
"wah.. ur face so big, cannot fit into the camera lens"
Or either cousin standing on either side of me, and whilst talking, they'll squeeze my fleshy arm. or sitting down, squeeze my thunder thigh.
Actually these sort of comments should not bother me. i hear them every year. from people who are related to me, but i only see once/twice a year. but then, some of these comments also came from people whom i have lived with since i was an infant too--my cousins. maybe i felt i should have gotten some sort of acceptance for the way i looked. hmmm.. but no. anyway, at this age when u r fat, unbecoming, unable to fit into mainstream clothes, dunno how to make-up and boyfriendless, u r still bound to suffer such ribbing---loser.
But then, being the homey person i am, hearing comments from those tt matter still hit. Though i was able to handle some of these comments better with some finesse, but it still hits. Hard. anyway, i jus wanna go home tt nite after a bruised evening, then i ran into a quarrel with my immediate family memberz on the way home.. oh wellz. tt really brought down all defences. another bruising to an already-battered ego. i had no more left in me to fight. I guess if i had reached home without quarreling, the nite mite have turned out differently. cos after all, i am so used to the relatives' ribbing le. But family's comments hit the hardest. and she chose the best part to hit as she knows me best--my weakest point--my personality. i had no more energy to fight really.
On the top storey of the deserted multi-storeyed carpark, i sat against the white-washed wall, tears streaming down my neck, gazing at the empty, fathomless skies, searching for a star. why do i like stars so much? this was the main reason... they are always there. but tonite, even the stars had abandoned me. i felt chilled. leaned towards the wall, wishing it had arms to put around me. even if the arms may be brick-cold and hard.. but i wun mind. cos i jus need some solace then. the tears fell silently. cos i dun even have the energy in me to scream. to cry out loud. and bcos i dun, each wave of tears tt came felt like a stab to the heart. the more i cried, the more i felt the pain to my heart. cos it wasn't a carthartic kind of crying. it was more a self-pitying kind of crying. i hadn't cried like this since more than a year ago, when i walked out of those shadows. Tonite, the shadows beckoned again. Pulling me into their engulfing, cold depths. Whispering to me that a guardian angel is but a myth of God. "Unaccepted. Unaccepted-able, Unacceptability." Unaccepted for myself. Or maybe there was no myself to begin with. I am not me. I felt these running thru my mind as the cold winds chilled me. Unaccepted by the basis of my being, the makers of my foundation. Un-understood by the beings that i believed to be most impt in a life.
There were a dozen names i could call from my hp, and the friend would be conforting me in an instant. Even as i sat there alone, i remembered each and every's promise to be there for me. But why dint i call? Not since 3 years ago. I had given out pieces of my heart to friends, old and new, even as i walked on from 3 years back. But i had never given my whole heart out again (unlike what my immediate family likes to think--my friends are soo much more impt and so forth).. no i never. Not since M. had I had a best friend again and hence, see no need to put my whole heart out on the line again. And thus, since M., no one has ever put me as their No. 1 either... and who could i call then to pour out everything? who could i call that would understand in an instant how i was feeling? who could feel for me and cry for me, as best friends do? I never felt that kind of closeness since M., where someone had a soft spot for me and even before i asked, would have called before and after my visit to check on how i am. Even though i had come into some close friendships since her... but I dint feel like reaching out for help. Cos no one had a soft spot for me, or would understand. In the end, i may end up feeling even more alone as the friend tried to reassure me and comfort me in the usual manner but they cun come to me as i needed.
My mind was so torn then that i cun even feel the existence of my shell. If someone had come to assault me then, i dun think i would have fought back. In some perverse part of my mind, i would have just let him in order to gain the attention i needed.
But nothing happened. Soon, my hp rang. My parents. Called to ask where i am as they wanted to go out to do some praying at a temple for CNY and i dun have the house keys (lent them to my cousin who is staying over at my parents' house for a few months), so i have to go home before they go out. Although the waves of tears hadn't gone away, i tried my best to wipe the tear stains on the sleeve of my new Zara top (the top i had felt so beautiful in when i put on that night, but now i felt looks like shit) before walking home. Arrived at the door of my parents' house. My face was blotchy-red but expectedly, my parents carried on their conversation as if they didn't notice me. i stared at the blotchy face in the bathroom mirror. Ugly. The comments were justified. The face that stared back at me was grouchy-looking, blotchy, red, bloated, pimply and the eyes were out of shape. I went to bed with Mr Pink and then penknife i used 3 years back. After i hear the house door click shut, i ran the penknife lightly over the fat white flesh of my wrist. It was so fat i cun see the veins. Pressing the penknife deeper enabled me to see the transparent top layer of my skin. i waited for it to slice deeper so the blood would flow. So the pain would ease the ache. But i dint dare. Even if on normal days, my watch would more than cover the scars, but i dint have the guts--weakling. I only dared made light enuff scratches that would itch and leave bubble-like swellings tt would ease into a red mark the next day. I laid down with Mr Pink in my hand. Mr Pink only have 'compassionate' crossed pink eyes. No ears, no mouth. I felt comforted. He's the only being that understands me. He looks at me puzzledly with his crossed eyes. I allowed his puny hand to wipe away the fresh spate of teardrops. His hand is so puny one teardrop wetted his entire hand. I fell into a dream-filled sleep where i was loved in the dream. i was not fat in the dream, i was happy and innocent and filled with love and people were drawn to me. I dint want to wake up.
Unfortunately i had to wake up eventually... and then the ling-of-the-night-before ceased to exist. In the light of day, the shadows slipped away and i was able to put on my careful meticulously-formed mask again. A mask i believed one day, i will come to own. Because, what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.
love,
ling
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..... in my sub-conscious. The ling u read hadn't been this emotional in a while. So dun mention any of this when u see me on my usual days k.. i like the present me more. The before-CNY, post-CNY me... the surrounded-by-loyal-friends me, the ling that had tried so hard to walk out. the ling that may one day grow stronger and less self-pitying.
Shu Ling Estrella @ 10:27 PM ~*~ |
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