For Her (For Me)

“When we are born, we cry, that we are come/ To this great stage of fools.” – William Shakespeare 1

***2

This is my history. My story. My life. 3

I need to tell it. Someday, somehow. 4

Let it be now.5

***6

I lived with my maternal grandmother till I was five. I stayed with her because when I was barely two, my other grandma let me climb onto the table to ingest some leftover youtiao and resulted in me having severe diarrhoea where I was practically shitting my intestines out. 7

That marked my first stint in the hospital.8

I mean, I was so young then, so I didn’t really remember it. But yeah, I was told, as I grew older. I first went into the hospital when I was one-and-a-half years old. 9

Then I was transferred to my maternal gran and... I can’t say she didn’t really take good care of me. I mean, there was that little issue where I’d bounded off her neighbour’s little daughter’s bed and almost cracked my head open. That time when I’d doused my own head with baby powder. When I’d stuffed the little pieces of orange peel I’d torn up up my nose. That was when my parents took me to the doctor’s and he’d advised an operation ASAP. But thank God, I sneezed out the offending little pulps. I mean, my poor nose probably couldn’t take any more of their (gentle) prodding and squeezing.10

I was loved.11

Because I was the only child then.12

I mean, it all makes sense, yeah?13

When I went into the hospital the second time, I was five and I had been hit by a really bad virus. I was put on a drip and had to be wheeled around in a wheelchair with the irritating dangling thing following after me on a sliver stand. 14

I think my father struck it rich then. Or something. All I remember is that every time he paid a visit to my ward, there would be a new, shiny, fancy toy bestowed upon me. There were Barbie play sets, furry stuffed animals, Lego sets.... and more.15

I can’t remember my mother. But I remembered the drip made the back of my hand stink. And I tried to pull it off. 16

***17

Before my sister was born, I threw a thick hardcover at my mother’s heavily-pregnant stomach. 18

But I wasn’t a violent kid. 19

Oh, no. Not yet, at least. 20

It’s not that I don’t have a good relationship with my sister. No, it’s not that. It’s just that... in those early years, there were some troubles... some problems... some fights. Some beatings... some things that got progressively bad. I mean, when she wanted to kill herself at age ten, was it my fault?21

***22

When I went to regular school, I’d moved back in with my parents. 23

My gran came in the day to take care of me and my younger sister. 24

In those days, it was just the two of us (my youngest sister wasn’t born till I was nine). My parents were always busy at work, and my neighbours were our faithful childhood playmates. I’d a family outside of my family. And okay, my gran didn’t really keep that close an eye out for us... and that day she stood over the railing, my sister could have fallen over and died. When I made her go down the road to the mama shop, she, being a mere five-year-old, could have been kidnapped and harmed by unsavoury characters.25

But I was stupid, and selfish, you see? Like we all are. Like I still am. Like how stupid, selfish, ugly I am right now. 26

So I went to school, and I met them. I can’t talk about them, you know. I mean, I don’t have nightmares about them like I’d about my old house every single night for three straight years after I’d moved. I don’t dream about them. I don’t think about them, period. 27

But they harmed me. 28

They scarred me.29

They turned beauty into grotesque, innocence into guilt... and I hold them responsible for it. 30

I don’t know. Did they ruin my childhood?31

Or did my father do that? Did he take a risk, a chance, a last, fatal, hopeless stab at redemption... and he betted my childhood on a whim... and he lost. He lost my childhood. 32

But I was seven then, and I met them. And they ruined me. 33

***34

I lived the next six years in a dream.35

In a fool’s paradise, a hopeless debacle of half-formed dreams and forgotten ideals. 36

I made friends and I lost them as quickly. 37

I got my As and it was never enough. 38

My mother was never happy enough.39

I went through life in a daze, in a snooze, in a... lullaby-land that was tainted all those years ago.40

Ten, eleven, twelve...41

***42

I went to high school at thirteen. 43

Thirteen and fourteen were the years I lost it. 44

That was when my violent side showed, when I punched the walls and tried to harm myself. When I was this close to slashing my wrist with a razorblade... when I’d have jumped off my sixteenth-floor apartment... and I could have died.45

I could have died.46

But I didn’t.47

I wonder why. 48

*** 49

From the years between sixteen and eighteen, I lived a perfect life with nary a crack. 50

I went to school and I laughed with my friends.51

I scored my string of As and I went home to a warm and happy family.52

I was making it right—I was reliving every single moment of every single wretched bit of my life... in rerun. In slow motion. Making every single little thing right again. 53

I was happy, I was free... and I wasn’t me.54

For those happy, glorious years of love and hope, I cultivated my perfection like an artisan crafted her mask of deception.55

I know I wasn’t me.56

I know I was living in a lie.57

I know I was going to get caught out in the lie. 58

I met Sig and no matter what anyone says, I don’t believe I’m better than him. I don’t believe I’m smart and funny and pretty and kind and amazing and adorable... because I’m not. I’m ugly as hell, and I’m as scarred as the moon rock in outer space. 59

I know the only reason I’m still alive is because... I’m not dead. Ha ha ha.60

I thought I didn’t want to die anymore, you see.61

I thought that because everything was fine and dandy and perfect and tralala... and because I went to all those soccer matches with my dad, because I stayed up to talk to my sister the whole damn night, because I was even talking to my mother a lot better... that everything was fine. That everything was perfectly flawless.62

That I was changed. That I could change. That the self-hate had been vanquished somehow. That the urge to self-destruct was forever gone. That my mind has stopped telling my body to kill myself. Stopped telling my brain to suffocate me. 63

I was wrong.64

She is still there. 65

The demon.66

The devil.67

The one who left me back then and who’d come back now... and I’d accepted her... and I’d thought everything was going to be okay. That it was a reconciliation, and that both of us could live happily together ever after...68

Maybe that was before I began to throw my food away.69

Before I took my first item off the supermarket shelf. 70

Before I rode my bike down the speeding highway... and I’d have derailed onto the path of the oncoming vehicles... But I didn’t.71

I found solace in trees and flowers and little pretty things. 72

I took photographs of clouds in the skies and chased after the sunset to get my cherished shots. 73

I ran against the wind and I tried to plug the gaping hole in my heart with sweat and tears.74

Not blood.75

Never blood.76

I’ve never cut myself.77

I can listen to pounding rock songs and churn out angry, moody, weird poems...78

But I’d never cut myself. 79

If I’d a gun, I might put it to my temple and pull the trigger.80

If I’d a bottle of pills, I might empty it out into my throat.81

If I’d Star... 82

I’ll never miss anyone again.83

***84

And I’m nineteen now. I’m reaching my twentieth year in four months’ time. 85

This past year, I’ve entered university and taken quantum physics, theatre studies, Japanese studies, psychology... and literature and philosophy. That being the two great loves of my life. That being maybe, the only reason I’m still alive right now. 86

That maybe the hole in me will always be there. That I’ll always be incomplete. That I’ll always be missing something, or someone... and it’s me, I guess. A part of my psyche. How I can thrive on creating beautiful metaphors of mundane events. How I can still be living in a dream amidst these nightmares... How, through it out, I don’t blame them. I don’t blame anyone for what’s happened to me. 87

I can still study.88

I still study because that’s the only thing I can do, frankly speaking.89

I can’t sustain relationships. I destroy beautiful things in my life with my bare hands. And then... I try to look for beauty in new places. I never stay some place for long... and maybe, it’s time for me to go. 90

Time for me to go... somewhere else. Somewhere I belong. 91

I thought I belonged here.92

I thought I set up the club for the sole purpose of a permanent dwelling for my moribund existence. I thought wrong. 93

I left my past and I’m never looking back. 94

I’m living my life and hoping for so much more.95

I’m sucking air through gritted teeth in a futile attempt to keep my breath.96

Maybe I should just give up.97

Maybe I should just let go.98

Maybe I should stop crafting such pretty words in a lyrical manner... and stop mistaking my hate for love. Stop disguising my ugliness as beauty. See past my bright facade and look into the rotten core beneath. 99

Am I brilliant? Am I creative? Am I amazing?100

No, no, no. I’m none of the lies that I made up for me.101

I can’t be any of that when I’ve been living in a lie my whole damn life. When everything is wrong and nothing is right. And I miss me.102

I missed me.103

She got onto the last train and left. I watched it trundle out of the rusty station, my voice a bare croak and unable to keep her back.104

I’ll kill myself. 105

I can be nineteen and I want to die.106

Believe it. It’s a fact. 107

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