1: Hey Stranger

Hey Stranger,

-Soulmate Instru.
If you would be so kind, won’t you hear me out? Recently, I’ve been wondering about something and I was hoping if you share the same views as I do. I am clumsy with words. I stumble, trip and fall over them so when I do, I get back up and end up starting all over again; Sometimes, I turn towards another direction before coming back to where I am supposed to be. –however, please be patient and bear with me.
I’ve lived for 19 years. Many times, it has passed through my mind. Many times, I’ve shrugged it off my mind. Because I live better when it wasn’t there in my head. Now, I feel like confessing to you. Hey Stranger… growing up isn’t easy. Am I being silly for saying that out loud? Maybe I am.

– “Innocence”, Avril
When I was young, there were so many wonderful little things that made me happy. When Daddy was mean to me, I cry earnestly and could forget all about it after receiving my favourite candy from him the next day. When my mom took me out to play at a nearby playground, my heart whooped with earnest joy. Even if I end up playing alone, the playground was still like a heaven to me. When I win a simple Scissors-Paper-Stone game, I was delighted. When I beat the boys while climbing Monkey-bars, I felt accomplished. When I was a bad kid, people forgive me easily– because being young and ignorant was my privelege.

Once when I was about 8 or 9, I climbed to the top of the roof of a playground. How I did it? …Like a silly monkey. I clung to the monkey-bars and pulled myself up, squeezing myself and finally making it on top of a monkey bar. Heck, I even made my way across the monkey-bar while walking like a monkey –with my hands moving from one bar to the other, while my legs following suit. When being on top of a monkey-bar wasn’t enough for me, I climbed even higher. Like an acrobat, I figured my way around and made it to the highest point of the playground, which is the roof. I sat there smiling to myself. I remember looking down and thinking: yaaa.. this is really high but I did it. I remember feeling the breeze in my face and feeling so accomplished and proud of myself for being able to climb to the top of a roof, something in which most kids can’t do or won’t even think about doing. I remember feeling victorious because there’s no way in hell that any kid would be so garang as me to climb all the way to the top of a roof –or at least, I felt that way. I remember I did it because my mom wasn’t looking. And then I remember slipping and falling all the way down, feeling throbbing pain all over my body. Yet I didn’t cry when I was hurt, the feeling of victory and accomplishment still tastes so sweet in my mouth. Instead, I went over to my mom and talked about how I fell from the roof. Proudly.

Simple accomplishments I made (however senseless and pointless in the eyes of many people) were enough to make me feel so happy about myself that I didn’t even care about the pain when I fell from such a scary height. When I swung up really high on a swing, I was exhilarated. When I climbed on top of a monkey-bar, I was pleased. I was always climbing to the top (quite literally).

Being ever eager to please, I did simple things for my family. I was more than happy to cook noodles and other fried stuff for them to eat. I volunteer sometimes, even. When I see them eating the things I cooked for them… when they nod their heads and told me it was delicious… when they say I should cook more, I felt like those words were all that I needed to do even more for them.

I also remembered once when I was in primary school, I didn’t know who said it but someone once said that if you are grateful towards your parents and want to make them happy, you can help them relax and feel comfortable after a hard’s day work by preparing a basin of warm water and soaking their feets in it. Upon hearing this, I went home and did it for them. When they smiled and said, “Good girl..”, I could tell that my sentiments reached them and my heart filled with earnest warmth and content.

– Pachelbel Canon in D, Musicbox version
Back then, I cried when I was sad. I laughed when I was happy. I expressed with emotion as I felt it. I was happy being myself. I was content with myself… well, for the most part of it anyways. When I did things for people, I did them wholeheartedly without expecting anything in return and was even happy to be useful to them.

Can one tell that I was once a good kid? Though I screw up with my studies… I really tried my best, worked hard and grit my teeth with tears in my eyes even when they said I was stupid. Though I say really hurtful things to people… I felt really bad and said sorry in my heart because I had strong pride as a kid, while wishing so bad that they could hear it. (Because Sorry seems to be the hardest word…) And when I said ‘Sorry’, I said it sincerely, hoping desperately to be forgiven as a person.

When did it built up to the point of suffocation and distress? I couldn’t remember. But I knew my world seemed to have collapsed without me knowing it. So fast, so sudden, so hard –I didn’t have the time to get up. Is it because I didn’t climb to the top before falling, so when I fell without accomplishing what I set out to do, I couldn’t remember the taste of sweet victory in my mouth, and thus I was unable to get up? Was that the reason? I still don’t have a definite answer.

At this point of time, you must be thinking that I’m silly… right? Maybe so. Maybe I really am a silly sod. But can you really understand why or how a mind crumbles? Maybe not.

Hey Stranger… I think growing up turned me from that innocent kid to a very ugly person. Growing up made me realise that not everyone thinks the same way as I do. Saying that society changed me is an excuse –because it recently became clear to me that I changed myself for society.

I no longer cry anymore. Even when I’m sad, I only cry behind closed doors where no one can see me. If I cried in front of someone, I cry long and hard.. so that they will never see my crying face again. When I smile, it doesn’t necessarily means I’m happy. Smiles become more of a mask than an expression of emotion. When I laugh, I ask myself on occasion what I am laughing for/at; Is it really funny? I become greedy. I become selfish. I become possessive as well as obsessive. Sometimes I do things for people not because I want to but because I’m forced to… And then, those blissful feelings I had when I did things for people and the happiness I felt when I was useful to other people was gradually lost. I feel cautious with pretty words and I don’t believe them anymore. I stopped believing that people see me as good person anymore, simply because I don’t think I myself make a good person.

Now I think twice before helping people. And I ponder if feeling useful equates to being easily used and disposed of later, and if so… then I rather not feel useful anymore. I’ll throw away those feelings if I have to prevent myself from cleaning up an emotional mess later. Whatever it takes to protect myself and to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, I would do it… even if it means the things I do might get ugly. When I accomplished something, I don’t feel that same feeling of triumph and accomplishment as I did 10 years ago… Instead, I tell myself it isn’t enough and try to aim for an even higher ground to climb up to.

Thoughts become actions… actions become habits… I get up to get hurt and start all over again. Before I knew it, I became so ugly and unlovable. Don’t you think I’m a joke? The same joke everybody else will become when they grow older because of the increasing responsibilities and expectations of the world being thrown onto them. I used to appreciate myself for the simplest things that I do well, but now such appreciation for myself is hard to come by.

My heart seemed to grow impatient and cold towards myself. I never say, “Gina! Good job and give a pat to yourself!” or “Wow, you did it! Good for you!” to myself anymore. It’s not enough for me anymore. The love I had for myself as a child… the simple things that made me feel on top of the world when I was a kid… At times, I ask myself where’d they go. But thinking about it only makes me feel nostalgic and frustrated because I can never find those blissful days again.

Do I hope to be forgiven? I don’t think I want that to happen. Because I knew the kid 10 years ago, that’s why I don’t want to ever forgive this person now. Because I knew that kid 10 years ago, that’s why I cannot accept how greedy and selfish she has become now. I understood her 10 years ago… but now she’s become someone that’s becoming harder to understand. Because I know she can be so much better than being like this, that I cannot accept the way she is now. Why is it that living and growing up is so hard and suffocating? Growing up is so exhuasting.

Hey Stranger… if you’re lucky, perhaps you can love yourself in time as you are growing up. Changes or bygones, whatever it is, maybe then you’ll be able to accept yourself as it is. Maybe then, you won’t become such an unlovable person. Because I don’t want people to end up like this girl I’ve become. I hope you remember the simple things in life that once made you happy. I hope you stop to remember once in a while about the things that made you love and appreciate yourself.