welcome to my life.. well my english sucks but hopefully you guys would enjoy this..
My eyes are fixated, the same way they were eleven years ago, on the television screen, gazing dreamily at the pretty princess and her knight in shining armor singing to each in an enchanted wood. It’s often at times like these that I let myself drift upon waves of sweet reminiscence…
Perhaps it’s hard to comprehend how a nearly grown-up sixteen-year-old like me can still be captivated by an outdated cartoon. It isn’t the quality of the animation or the cheesiness of the songs that distinguishes the memorable from the forgettable; it is the memories, the vivid recollections and feelings which somehow resurfaced. The embarrassment of being the object of ridicule of school; the jubilation when I obtained my examination results; the grief of my cousin’s passing; the shock when a close one hinted at suicidal tendencies; the total misery of falling for some petty hoodlum; and the betrayal when bosom friends changed, leaving me alone.
I am at an age where I am stuck in transition between the innocence of childhood and the harsh realities of adulthood. A part of me craves the halcyon days I once possessed while the other is raring to go out and explore the exhilaration of being an adult. The walls of my bedroom are coated in gaudy shades of Barbie pink and purple. At the corner of my bedroom, my little collection of bears from McDonalds sits smugly on top of my shelves with layers of dust…
How can one not long for those days when all it took was a butterfly fluttering by to bring a smile to one’s face, a time when everyone was perfect and everyone was good, when no suspicions tainted the perception we had of others, where faith never wavered and beliefs never faltered?
As we grow older, it becomes difficult just to believe. It’s not that we don’t want to, it’s just that so much has happened that makes it hard to do so. Then one day, we find that the blissful naivety that once cocooned us is shed, and we find ourselves thrust headlong into an alien world, no longer a guileless child, but an awkward teenager struggling to fit in…
I go through all the ups and downs, and feel both the elation and dejection that delineate one’s juvenile years. I ride the highest highs and trudge the lowest lows. I have been through phases of delirious euphoria, followed promptly by ravaging depression. I have endured the scathing of some, the lauding of others, and discovered that it’s the former that leaves the deeper mark. I try so hard to live their lives sometimes, too preoccupied with being someone else, not knowing that in the process I am losing my own way to shine. I strive to fulfill the criteria for being cool, not understanding that cool means being true to oneself. “Too fat, too ugly, too stupid” are just some of the things that fill my head almost every other day, and I am dumb enough to let them get to me.
Born out of dissatisfaction with myself, I let perverse thoughts penetrate my mind. So many times I have held a blade to my wrist, just for a moment to relief and more often than not have I stood over the toilet bowl, prodding my throat with a quivering finger, attempting to empty my stomach. The only thing that held me back was my lack of courage. I am the same as most of my peers; we talk the same, act the same, and think the same, though we all claim to be different.
Yes, we are a bunch of confused individuals, baffled by the discrepancy between the two worlds that lie before and behind us. We are trying to come to terms with ourselves, to find our humble place in this vast universe, trying to adjust to a new environment while retaining the virtues gained from the former. Often we seek solace from the responsibilities and expectations that inundate us in the songs we hear, the clothes we wear, and the people we hang out with, only to be misconstrued as odd, even bizarre. Time and again we are labeled rebellious, but they don’t know that each time we lash out at parents, siblings, teachers even friends, our own conscience beat us up twice as hard. It isn’t rebellion, I say it is hostility brewed by pent-up frustration towards ourselves.
How do we cope with the fallacy that life is beautiful when every day we see and hear the effects of the evil that shroud this world? How do we see past the pretentious smiles and discover the beautiful souls too afraid to come out? I don’t view the pretension that masks the lifestyles and mannerism of many as something to be scorned, for I know that many a time it serves as the only defense against the harsh judgment and criticism of others.
Insecure? Yes.
Nevertheless I will not falter for I have the virtues gained from my past clutched firmly to my breast. Perhaps one day, I might even learn to dance to the rhythm of the rain.
