“Hey, is this…”
“Yes, it is! Now, stop asking!” she shut me down again, in front of other people, as if I’m an idiot.
“Do you have to be so rude?”
I had tolerated with her all my life. Every time she was being mean, I had to be the one to understand her state – every f-ing time. Every time she was unstable, my parents would ask for my understanding. I have, my whole life, tolerated her. But I am all grown up now and so is she. We both should know better how to think and act as adults. If me giving in to her since I was a child made her think it is because I am a fool, she had better think again. I am not stupid nor was I ever.
If I blow up, it means it was not the first time I was put in that position. It means my pride was challenged as if I had none. It means I’m tired of understanding while not a single entity ever makes an effort to hold up my pride.
I am a human being with the right to feel all sorts of emotions. I, too, am entitled to feel anger and discontent. As I try to express my state to my mother, she could not understand me. No, she would usually refuse to be part of it. Sadly for me because my mother is and have always been in the state of denial. This – is as far as I could remember. She will try to avoid facing the reality of a real problem heading towards the direction of her utmost fear.
I grew up believing I was flawed. I believed that I was not cute as a child. When I was younger, everyone said my sister was cute for her fair skin and Chinese-like feature. Everyone called me ‘budak hitam’ – literally translated as black kid – because I have darker skin. Nobody – literally, no one – ever said I was cute. I grew up believing I was ugly – thus, believing that black is ugly – and I was desperate to make everyone believe that I am just as beautiful as my sister and as cool as her. I was desperate…
It took a toll on my confidence, I dare say. It did… Had it not happened, I would have been a different kind of child. I know this because I remember of being scolded for talking, for singing, for dancing or even when I try to voice out my opinion, I was ignored or laughed at – not knowing why. I remember enjoying doing those things without feeling ashamed until other people stopped me from doing so without being reasoned with.
I was told to be quiet when I wanted to sing. I was told to stand still when I wanted to dance. I was shut down when I had questions that they could not or do not want to answer. I learned to fear asking questions or voicing out my opinions. However, they were forced out of me when I was at my most clueless time. With all of those, I had lost my confidence. My road was blocked when I was supposed to move forward. My ladder was removed when I was supposed to climb.
I remember my parents forbiding me from talking in the car resulting me to fear to talk to them. I remember being told off for asking too much or talking too much. I remember those because it had developed the fear in me to socialise. I started to fear to talk to strangers because I was afraid of saying something that might make them hate me. I was scared of being myself because I believed that being myself was not good enough.
Even until today, I was trying to break free from those fears. I have mostly freed myself and raised my confidence to a level that I never know I could achieve. Still, I have my own insecurities. Currently, I have fear of missing out. I believe people don’t find me amusing to be friends with. I believe I lack so much in personality that nobody think I am worth to invest their time with. I still believe all of those and try to get over it.
Now, I’m not trying to put the blame of my own weakness to other people. But I need to say it when nobody would listen. My inner voice is hurting me and it makes me want to hurt myself. I want to live on. I really do. But my will could not find the ultimate mean.
My soul died when I was a child along with the mean of life. I struggled to revive it from the dead, trying to believe that I still have values to live with in this rotten world.