Tuesday, March 15, 2011

It's 1.21am and i'm psyching myself to pull an all nighter. Approximately 2 weeks more to my supp papers, such an early preparation is (shamefully) quite new. Even during my chungcheng days i was always a last min mugger, until o levels that is, which i clocked in 7am-9pm book whoring for 3 months straight.

Imagine that, i barely left my table, never allowed myself the slightest enjoyment else i'd be stricken with guilt. The only time i'd be in contact with anyone other than my grandma and aunt was during tuition. Of which i'd stone away drowning in academic text and wistfully listening to my friends planning study outings. I never went for any of those even when they asked, thinking that going out at all meant fun, thinking i wouldn't study, so there i was stuck at my desk.

The conversations i had with my mum never went pass the mark of 5 and were nothing more than calls of 5 short minutes. I never saw her for that 3 months. In fact I never really talked to anyone, trapped deeper within the walls i had imprisoned myself.

There were many a time when i'd break down and cry.. from stress, from the emptiness, from my morbid self esteem issues, from battling ugly anorexia and from the loneliness. But i couldn't let myself falter, i couldn't deal with failure, i couldn't even bear the thought of being an inch away from my perfect streak of A1s, i couldn't bear being anything less than what people expected of me. People. I was anything but happy, i was devoid of much emotion, devoid of attachment to anything or anyone, so much so that i was beginning to feel like a hollow shell.

In retrospect , the one incident still painfully etched in my mind was a call from my mum. One of her sobbing over the other line, my god-grandma had passed on. She was a lady i loved so dearly, caring , understanding , fiercely independent even at 90 and full of spunk. I shed narry a tear, i felt nothing, what was i?

You'd think that so much sacrifice, so much of me that i had lost would at least be justified? But no. I got a 9 , no where near the 6 i wanted. I saw the looks of concern and sorry that classmates threw me when my name wasn't flashed on that huge screen that housed the roll of honours. The almighty audrey goh, one of the few 6 pointers for prelims, had fallen off her pedestal. Crushed was an understatement.

In the months that followed i left the incident at the back of my mind, basking in the joys of love and money earning , telling myself to start anew. I was happy, until school started and unearthed the nightmare i thought i'd buried deep. A small PIPC quiz and there i was tolling into the night, the content a blur and then i broke down, because i nothing was going in, i was barely comprehending anything. What was it worth? 1 per cent of my final grade? And there i was reliving my o level days.

Thereon charted my path of a downward spiral. Torturing me with resonating thoughts that hardwork never pays off. I lost every ounce of interest in school, craving to have what i never allowed myself to have. Freedom, love, fun and happiness. I flew with my heart and clean forgot that i could never navigate without my head. There i was collecting extrinsic tokens of life like they were trophies, thinking that they meant happiness. But what i failed to see were the ugly, rotten holes within me that i never patched up or mended. Disgusting infestations that would eat at me while i was alone, while i was without distractions that i mistook for harbringers of happiness. I was still that sad little girl on the inside, but with different painted scenes on the shell.

I fell further. I gave my all to guys, thinking that love was all i needed. And slowly, as i crawled deeper into their arms, i left behind what made me , me. It showed with my studies, then my blogshop and finally dance. They din't love me for me, they loved what i did for them. What else could it be then ? I was asked to change extrinsic aspects of myself that werent for the better of a relationship but more to fit into their shallow mould of a stepford girlfriend, i was giving my all, forgoing the things i was supposed to do so i could travel back and forth to their houses, to show my face at outings, to spend time with them at their demands. When i couldn't make it , or when i didn't want to go due to things i wanted to do, i was met with displeasure. Some even went to the extent of telling me they'd hate the things i loved doing because i couldn't spend time with them. I relented, foolish, foolish me. I expected lesser and i never got more, was my happiness any less important than theirs? The facade they'd put up from the start couldn't hold, the promises of change couldn't hold, even with a given chance i knew deep down that the cracks would soon start to show. Never, never put up a facade if you can't keep it up. There were no happy endings, no amiable goodbyes, everything came to a close on cracked notes. Sure, i broke hearts, some over again, but sacrifices? I never asked for them, i never made anyone sacrifice anything. Their lives went on as it did before i stepped in. Sure there were happy times, times that i were glad of, times whereby i pushed aside the broken bits to see the joy of love's company, times that i would forever thank them for, but those happy times could and would never ever make up for what i lost.

My stupidity finally took a toll and i sought self-gratification , I needed to do something to comfort myself that i wasn't useless. I had to take pocket money from my mum for a week, and that was the greatest low i could ever allow myself to go, to lose my financial independence. That's when i joined Powerhouse. Despite the unhappiness that it brought to some of the relationships i had to those around me, it is something that i would forever be thankful for. I learnt a lot in those few short months, i met amazing people be it colleagues or customers and i was slowly finding myself. It wasn't easy, juggling late nights, school , dance and emotionally draining problems. But i clung on. At the pinnacle of stress, i would always be thankful for a friend who was there on the phone with me, sadly, whatever ties i had build with that person will forever be broken and I have since moved on.

Months on , here i am. Things are scrambled about here and there , I'm nowhere near where or who i want to be, but with the scrambled pieces that i've picked up, I take a step to them each day. And the support from those closest, makes each step so much more bearable: My best friends Gordon, Nina, Jonas and Brian who would check up on me with encouragements. My grandma who was once the feared empress dowager i was very close to hating (but has now mellowed down) , boils me tonic ever so often , calls once in a while and keeps me in her prayers. My aunty ( also lovingly known as my godma ) who was always the second mother to me. My brother who constantly encourages me with GO STUDY NAOs and incentives of treats of beef to get me going. My mum who has in these few months, at the peak of my difficulty or growing up to put it nicely, has started to understand me more as i open up and shows her support in the most amazing way any child could ask for. During my exams, i had to constantly smoke to calm my nerves down as i burned the night with my head in books. Despite hating it and being greatly upset by the fact , i woke up one morning after she left for work and there on my table was a glass container half-filled with water and a note lovingly written by her that said " Darling, for your butts, please quit after your exams " . I nearly burst into tears after reading the note, that night itself i talked to her of my plans and fufilling my dad's last wish of completing university, something i once threw out of my head. And finally my loving boyfriend Joel, who is more than i could ever ask for in a guy. Constantly showering me with love , care and affection, enduring my emotional breakdowns and telling me that right from the first incident he made a promise to stick by me. He wakes me up everyday for dance or studying even though i have the worst snooze reaction hardwired into myself, chases me off into bed so i have enough rest and never throws a tantrum when i oversleep because he wants me to get more. Random calls from camp would always be punctuated with a " Have you eaten? ", because he's always afraid i'd skip meals. He listens to me as i drone on with the details of life he's missed out but affect me now, like the story above , tries to understand each nuance and notion of it and ends it with a hug and a " what doesn't kill you makes you stronger ". Little things he do that nudge me on my way each day always cheer me up, yesterday was one. He sprung a surprise visit on me as i was sweating it out at training, dropped a burger into my bag and sat at the bench of TCC and just watched me dance. We din't even have a chance to talk as my training was ongoing, communication was as much of the little eye contact i could give, and gigantic heart handsigns that i could afford. I din't even have a chance to say a proper bye, but he din't mind.

So here's my 4 years whittled down to a blogpost of painful lessons, I've never thought that I'll put it up here but now that I've moved on from everything, I finally can bring myself to. It used to be a miasma for a future, it still is but there's a blurred light through the fog now, a point of meaning and destination to my life despite the path yet ventured ahead.

Falling down is hard, but picking yourself up is even harder. But regardless of how long it takes, it's still the most important. I took 4 years, 4 fucking years is a bloody long time. I'd look at these memories in the future relishing the good times i had and the bad? They'd serve as lifetime lessons for when i look back on the past, it'll no longer be a " why do i still feel that i'm still there " but a great big " FUCK YOU, BYE ! ". I type this post not only to lock it in as a memory for myself, but also in hopes that maybe (despite how obscure my blog is) one day some poor soul who is on the verge of throttling down the same path i did, could save himself in time to escape such a crazy tumble, or helping someone who is on the road of similar destruction to heal faster to get back on track. After all, a clever mans learns from his mistakes but a wise man learns from the mistakes of others.

Here's a sweet goodnight to anyone who has used up about 20 minutes of their lives to read this tale and may you be blessed to never be anywhere near the beaten path horribly stomped upon by me. And here's me signing out to kiss my bpharm notes, I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR ASSES YOU FUCKING DRUGS MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Mwah.


And here's my baby Liner, telling every stressed out person to chill out :3

And the sparrow on weed screeched.

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