confessions of a 12 yr old girl

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]

the one with…

THE ONE WITH THE SMELL 

my room stinks. and i cant really locate the source of the stench.

THE ONE WITH THE UNTRUTH 

i made up a huge lie to save my own ass. i just hope the lie wont spin into something so disastrously unmanageable that gets me into the deepest shit that ive never been through. ive been in pretty deep ones, and i know this issue has potential into mutating into smth mega-colossal. itll be like 10000 leagues under the fuck. god oh god oh god…please please save my ungrateful ass again. PLEASE.

THE ONE WITH THE PROCASTINATOR

i have to rewrite an essay and i cant even seem to start. no inspiration.

THE ONE WITH THE NIGHTMARES 

i have a lecturer to meet tmw and im not looking forward to it. in fact this feels like meeting the principal for not doing my head prefect duty. like meeting my form teacher for swearing and using the word ‘bitch’ to my classmate who honestly deserves every meaning of that word. (‘fuck’ wasnt a trend yet) feels like being confronted by my malay teacher for fighting with a bunch of girls. oh god. my primary school nightmares replaying in my head…yeaarrrgggh…spinning…

THE ONE WITH THE BF’s FAMILY

the boyfriend was confronted by his siblings today. he was accused of applying for a flat at sengkang with his girlfriend. cos he was spotted by his sister’s apparently mak joyah friend at hdb HQ toa payoh. siblings got angry cos he’s the only anak lelaki left in the familiy and that title entails a lot of responsibilities that involves financial duty, parents yada yada …badabing badabboong…applying for a flat now is simply a BIG no no. applying for a flat without consulting elder siblings (and getting their approval) is deemed a catastrophy. problem was, the siblings were out of their fucking deranged minds. me and him, as settled as we are, are nowhere near marriage. as so deeply in love we may appear to be, we still have our brains firmly chained in our skulls, thank you. we are friggin in our early twenties, still schooling part-time or not, still not ready for a big hulabalooic permanent full-time-till-eternity-commitment like MARRIAGE. and damn, do they even know their brother at all??? if they did, they would know that he is freaking sensible, (alot more sensible than them at some points), and that financial stability is really impt to him. so the mak-bedah-joyah-kepo-nak-mampos-suka-jaga-tepi-kain-org person saw the wrong couple, gossipped the wrong information. i mean seriously? a young tall dark-skinned man with a minah tudung partner. that description fits 3/4 of the malay couple population lah.

ok even so…receiving an information like that, shud render further probing and perhaps calling the ‘your-own-flesh-and-blood’ brother to confirm the truth cos logic says trust ur own family, not kepo unreliable friends. NOT mobilising half the family to interrogate and scold the brother as if he was hiding spore no. 1 wanted man! and get this, one of the smart ass sister said, if that really happened, she would be highly disappointed in…(ceng ceng ceng) …ME! the gf!!!!! WTF.. ok this require full spelling. WHAT THE HOLY FUCK????

he was expecting she would be disappointed in him…but instead MY NAME was being dragged here. eh first of all, she doesnt even KNOW me. dont even know for certain how i look, how i speak, how i fight back, much less my character. and mcm sial kan, to put expectations on me (cos to be disappointed at me, u have to have place expectations on me first, and to have a degree of expectation on me, u have to know me first, and know the kind of relationship i have with her brother)…seriously… if we did lose our minds and made a decision like those too-young-to-be-married hingus malay lunatics couple and applied for a flat, why shud the expectation fall solely on ME. why be disappointed in me and not HIM. what, just because he’s in love w me, doesnt mean all decisions are made by me! doesnt mean all the thinking done by me! doesnt mean he lost all his individuality, lost all his independent abilities. DOES NOT FUCKING mean all the faults falls on me. harlow??? if we are indeed a going to be married couple, wudnt the man be more in charge?? i mean, what happen to ketua keluarga, syurga di telapak kaki suami etc? i mean fuck gender equality cos thats fairytale cock. we are muslims and the religion place greater regards for men, tanggungjawab, authority and prestige. what happen to all that?? man, im writhing in anger. seriously ah! so angry. mcm yg buruk all me, yg baik all him. pantat ah. pantat kecidol. if only they know how i bitch back. they wud hell know for certain im not marriageable yet. much less want to APPLY for a flat at sengkang.

i dun even like sengkang.

[confessed, but not reformed]

weeeeee of the niiiiiigggggghhhhhhhttt

the thoughts of the day caught up with me…they always do. its like this ritual relay thing that they have going on in my head. especially in the wee hours of the morning. where all i can hear, is the soothing breezy sound of my (dusty) fan, and the occasional deep rumbling of some car cruising past my flat, as if heading towards its dying destination. sadistic seh me.

sigggghhhhh…a lot of things are in my mind right now. a lot of them are about the complexities of life, friendships, moments of trepidations, values and principles. ah what the fuck. who am i kidding right? ok, i confess. most of them are about her.

but since its mother depressing to talk about that issue again, i decide to shift my thoughts to happy things. i need a reprieve from all the sadness of the unattainables and the famous cliche of our sucky lives. so i shall reconjure up memories of the recent past…

last week my parents and i went on a picnic thing at changi… i think its changi. i didnt bring a camera, but me and abah were snapping pics with my lousy 2mgp camera phone. I thought of this particular day because my life was zipping so fast, so many new things, new emotions, new questions, and that day was sort of a break. a momentary pause in time. when drama takes a backseat and just let the camera roll silently. like those brief 5 minutes silence i have in the toilet cubicle in school amidst the hectic schedule of education. i usually look at my feet when im in the toilet squeezing pee out of my bladder. or that 5 minutes of peace that i feel when i pray (when im lucky and khusyuk). or that first 5 minutes i spent stoning after i just woke up in the afternoon.  

I know even at the shallowest end of my heart i love my family, even when i scream and swore i hate every cell in their body and every breath in their souls. I dont know whether blood is truly thicker than water, but i think i have seen the ugliest sides of them, and that hasnt destroyed or even made a dent in my love for them.

the spot we chose…                                                    and setting up…

 

 my colourful snack

some cool pic… my reflection! ok cheap thrill.

and finally, the perfect image to end the day. the pillars of my strengths. my imperfect role models. my teachers and my nemesis. my parents, sometimes my friends.

i have always loved walking behind them and watching them. they are generous with embraces and they always hold hands. i can picture them old and hunched, but their fingers will remain entwined. no matter how different i want to be from them, konon nak rebel, be a deviant, i always hope i will have what they have in the future.

[confessed, but not reformed]

between the sea and them

had a picnic recently. a simple one with a tent (we cheated by setting it up UNDER a man-made shelter called a gazebo), packed fried rice from home, snacks and simple distractions like magazine, dvd player etc.

                    company:my parents.     setting: changi beach.

i swear it amazes me sometimes how we, meaning my mom, my dad and myself, actually truly enjoy each other’s company. my family is tiny. and it definitely is far from perfect. it is also a system with that occasional virus of recurring bad history. betrayal, abuse, divorce. i cant de-virus it, or erase those bitter memories no matter how hard i try. yet, even with permanent stains and dog ears in the chapters of my family, i cant deny we are happy. and we love. my family is beautiful.

since the introduction of that amazing picanto into my family, our outings have become more frequent. we had campings, late night coffee talks, sight-seeing and more. but i love picnics. even late night supper and coffee talks comes second to picnics.

cos you know why? its an experience that is so raw. very basic. it forces you to actively interact with nothing else but your company. we got basic food (fried rice), basic shelter (6-men tent, solat-friendly), the salty sea air and the calming crashing waves as music. even if we brought mags and dvds, we cant help but actually truly spend time together. we talked about a hundred topics as we swayed in our separate hammocks, bitch about ppl in our lives, laughed at jokes shared, teased each other… we get to see each others’ true character through crystal clear glasses. the palette was so simple. just natural environment. the main attraction was just US. there were no extra garnishes in the menu like tv, phone calls, work/school and so on.

i love US (not united states). i love myself when im with them. i love my mom. and yes, i love my dad.

i do wonder though, whether my friends, amidst all their favourite obsessions, do EXPERIENCE their family. i mean in the raw-est manner. i hope they do. cos its an undescribable joy that bursts in your every cell.

[confessed, but not reformed]