confessions of a 12 yr old girl April 8, 2008

i was reading my friend’s thoughts through their blogs. their concerns of their future, happenings of their life. sometimes their words spoke with a degree of gravity, sometimes a touch of pain or grief, sometimes hints of frustration or anger, confusions, their questions …and sometimes a catharsis, purging of emotions…

somehow, though i sympathise, and at better times i empathise, today i realised most illustrations of the bitterness of their lives seem rather insignificant, almost frivolous. i quietly acknowledge the fact that some of my friends are privileged. the tj half. not obscenely rich or spoilt or trouble free. but im pretty sure most have not experienced the troubles and pains of a dysfunctional low income malay family. sure they have their problems and sure, i know people do not actually display their troubles on billboards for all to see. hence i cant proclaim their troubles to be inferior to mine or my other frens. i may be prejudiced without reason, but somehow it feels that way. i have always felt they lead better lives than me and my other non-jc frens. 

the reason that i mentioned this is because of today’s episode. today i saw real pain, real sorrows. from the eyes of a twelve year old girl. i was tutoring her, going over useless problem sums, smth about speed. distance over time gives you speed..smth she wont ever need to use in her life… then we heard her mom, my aunt scolding the rest of the kids in the other room. its not the scolding, its the voice, its the pain behind the voice. i am ten years older than her, yet i could not bear staying in her house any longer. amidst the shoutings, the crying, the frustrations hanging so thick in the air. all signs of cracks within the family. and the voice of a pained mother, wife. i am all too familiar with that voice. memories came rushing in, my mom’s silhouette by window, as she sobbed as softly as she could, towards the night sky. every night.

my cousin froze. but her fingers gripped her pen so tightly. her eyes stared at her book but i knew that they had brought her mind to a bitter place. her knuckles turned white. i know it is cliche but it really happened. we paused for 5 mins, listening to the comotion. listening to my aunts shoutings.

i wanted to grab my bag and vacate the flat as soon as possible. i wanted to do what i know best. i wanted to run away. but i cant because there are three children in the house that i care about. my aunt was screaming. but the thing that hurt my ears and my heart wasnt how loud it was. it was beneath that voice. so clear. there was pain in my aunts voice. and desperation. it was so distinctive to me. i could detect it almost immediately. then my heart broke when i saw my cousin’s face. her facial expression froze as if it was stuck in time. yet her eyes showed so much. i remember them as almost glassy. like looking into a room through a translucent jelly. like the whole chronicles of her life there right in her eyes. i remember swallowing hard. i din know how to react, to behave, to console. ive never felt so useless. here i am, her eldest cousin, the famous kaklong in the family. the favourite grandchild, the strong daughter, the smart one who made the right choices in life, the girl who didnt succumb to the fate of many malay girls of broken families. my family held me in high regard. i know that. but today at that very second, i din know wad to do. i didnt know how to tell her “its ok. its hard now, its painful now. just cry. let it out. life will get better. it will. it just will”  I FUCKING DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO. and i hate myself for that. hate hate it.

i should have hugged her. i should have. i should have let her cry on my chest and perhaps cry with her. i know that willl her feel better.i know it, cos thats what i wanted a long time ago. but i didnt. instead i held her shoulder and asked her “are u ok”…i wanted to kick myself when i heard myself say it. shes fucking 12 you idiot!!! right there and then i realised i am not close enough with my cousins. i am not emotionally confident. if it was close dear friend, i would have not been as clueless as what to do. she was tight lipped. she gave me a tiny nod. immediately i see her older than she need to be. she is feeling more than she need to be feeling.

i hate fate. i hate that my family has to go through this situation over and over again. i cant even count how many times it has happened on my dads side. and my mom’s…already 3 families have been hit. i HATE that i see one by one of my cousis gg through what i did years ago. and i see them failing. i see them getting distracted by the problems their family is facing. i see them finding all sorts of ways to soothe their pain. they might not burt in tears as easily as i do, but i see it. that quiet strength, shield, so desperately attempting to hide, to deny…i hate fate. there are days when i curse god for this. i have shed so much tears, seen my own dear mummy, and abah, and nenek shed so much tears… why do more ppl have to suffer terrible fates. why my family. why not my fucking jc frens who have only enough respect for themselves and their ‘best friends’. why cant god be fair. if he wanna inject pain, why cant he distribute it evenly. why a larger proportion to me, my family. i hate life. i hate reality. i hate tears. hate. hate hate them.

i know within months her parents will decide they have had enough and choose the easy way out and sign for divorce. i knew it. i knew it when it was about to happen to me, i knew it when it was about to happen to my uncle. now i know it will happen to her. she has four kids. FOUR. why din she think of family planning years ago. why din she choose a better husband. why din she call it quits when her husband hurt her first kid. why the fuck did she let it come to this. why the fuck did i decide to ignore it last time.

i am so fucking angry with the way things are now. and so fucking sad. again. again the tears have to fall.

i know how i survived. i was selfish. i didnt want to care about my mom’s mistakes, i didnt want to care about my fucking dad. all i cared was me. i know now, after years of reflections, that i detached myself from the reality. i would be beaten so bad the night before, yet come to school smiling, laughing, playing catching and zeropoint the next day. because i didnt let myself feel. once, when my counsellor tried to make me feel, reflect, i sensed my real vulnerability, i never came back. she repeatedly called me back for counselling. but i refused. teachers den stopped asking me to go for her sessions cos my grades were good. I was good. so why cant my cousins be selfish. why not.

i thought i was strong. ppl thought i was strong. my mom, my family thought i was strong. yet the topic of divorce can crumble me into a pile of weeping crap within seconds. i did what selfish me wanna do. dun care about the rest world.

my cousins are less selfish. they decide to care. and now, they are struggling. all of them. and im not doing anything. i cant do anything.

i couldnt teach today. i just cant. tutoring seemed so insignificant. i wished i had come years ago. tutored her and fiqah years ago.be there regularly in their lives.  i know fiqah is more like me. she doesnt care as much as yana. she is like me. she even look like me. but i see her pain once in awhile. while she ate, slowly, thinking in silent. her eyes distant and her thoughts deep. she sighed when things gets noisy in the house.  did i look like that a long time ago?

what will happen to them. will their lives turn out like mine? i hope they will. im better now. much better. i think. i just want them to be better. just better……..

[confessed, but not reformed]