date: Saturday, March 12, 2005 @ 10:30 am
title: Confusion..
I'm now in a confusion stage.
I dunno what I want for myself.
When a boy becomes a man..
Things will change. Emotions will change. Everything will change.
And I will inevitably change as well.
I dunno where to begin..
Now this question really troubles me.
'Who am I? Really.'
I was an empty shell with no life at all,
according to what youths are supposing be doing.
Now, I'm catching up with almost everything I have been missing all my life on how to be liberial and rebellious. That's a revolution in my life.
Shackles and chains were bounded on my limbs, controlled by my parents and manipulated by them. It's not that I hated them, but I dunno how to express my desires to be released from all the bondages and to lead my own carefree life. I wanted to be like a normal modern child, just want to be treated as one.
Then and now, I'm still living as a child of their era.. Meek and complete submission to them, to do whatever is commanded with no room of negotiation. If show any sign of defiance or displease towards them, unpleasant treatment is the consequence by them. In their eyes, or more in my mum's eyes, I just an adolescent who dunno how cunning and evil the society is.. an innocent and naive kid. And this.. give me alot of pressure.
What is the most hurting thing a parent can comment on?
Its comparing you with others. Both physically and academically.
Everytime, when she trys to drive a nasty point across my cheeks. She will surely compare me with my cousins and my brother, using them as the ideal example to follow. Making sure, that I have to work extremely hard to become like them and using their faults to 'curse' me if I dun listen to her.
She kept on pressing all my faults that I have committed when I was young, to remind me about my derived childhood. A time of fast learning and the strengthening of language culture. I was derived from visiting library and the lesson of self-responsiblity. I was forced into the art of the business world.
For some who dunno about me.
I was placed under the care of studentcare centre for 2 years before graduating with a PSLE certificate. I was not entrusted by my ownself as a child. I was completely underestimated, which that trust was not even breached and they didn't believe in my own ability to care for myself. That was so not truth at all..
However, contrary to that, my parents were more liberial in my committment to go to church on Sunday by my own. To have that 'trust' which I wouldn't skip Sunday school and go out with my friends, or slack at home to be entertianed by lots of cartoon. To board the train by my own and settle my own lunch..
Sunday school..
In there, I found the difference inside of me.
Kids attending church, because of the presence of their parent.
But I wasn't. I attended Sunday school, because it was a routine.
There was always this emptiness after Sunday school, when many went off with their parents, telling stories about the lessons and I, myself, was walking alone, casting my green eyes at them. I felt extremely derived. That's something that was hidden and covered up for years. My old wineskin that I couldn't rip off. It's still hurt my heart literially when I'm typing this..
Since then, I was seen to be a very independent person as I was the only surviving member of my family to represent the Kng family's involvment in my old church. Everyone who knew my family kept on asking how everything going on and sending their regards to them. Smiling and commenting that I was a goooooooood boy. So sensible.
It's not the praising and commenting I was sought for,
but to be in presence with my family in church.
But I didn't let my parents know, for they were so busy that Sunday was and is another working day for them. From morning to night. Non-stop...
Anxiety is the word to describe my feeling.
And another thing for those who dunno me that well.
I used to have serious acne problem, until my whole face bloated up with pimples everywhere. I was in serious condition and that was even long before puberty. Anxiety is the root of pimple inflammation.
I dunno about other people's life.
I dunno whether have they even gone thru such period of their life.
Sometime, I look at people who have good facial skin and leading a carefree life. I wonder if they understand why some aren't like them.
Those who looked trendy and wear awesome clothes with fashion beyond my areana..
those who have maids or mum as housewife..
those whose houses look really like home sweet home..
those who dun need to work for their whole life..
Sometimes...
I want to tell people about my life.
To find someone to chat to. Someone tangible.
Someone.. but i can't find one.
For sure, no one have gone thru such discrimination and torment.
At time, I wished that I was born in the 3rd world countries where I just need to care for my 3 meals and survival. Rather to be put thru all these by myself.
I used to find comfort by listening to my friends' problems: BG relationship and all their accounts during their week. And find comfort when reading the bible and compare my situtation I was with theirs, but now I can't find comfort in them anymore.
That's why..
many have commented that I looked sad.
I quarreled with my parent not long ago, a few days ago and I have been crying non-stop for the weeks.. All about the demands, she laid for me. My love for her was slowly turning into hatred.
She told me,
"If you have any problems, you can tell me and I will try to settle it with u."
I have lots of problem with YOU!!!! I sooooo want to tell her that..
Darn! my eyes are wet. I'm losing my emotions now.
I really feel that blogging is my only way to express all my bitterness, that she, who is not IT savvy, will never find out.
I'm always by myself in all the things that are thrown to me.
For some who dun know again.
My house is though a junk place. Stacks and stack of newspaper everywhere, yellow and filthy. The whole house is in complete messy and the last time we did house cleaning was 1999, according to the documents that I have found. And I was given this responsiblity to clear up this DAMN HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!
No one helps me. NO ONE!!
Den when I starts to clear up the place, one by one. My mum complained that I will throw away her things. She just dun trust me.
I got to stop blogging.
I'm losing my emotions.
