"People aren't meant to live alone."/ Teary afternoon; Long-winded tiers.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2d1uNikZiqY

^The only off-putting thing about this was the constant, unnecessary sexualization of every single character and scene, but I guess after a while you get desensitized,
And bouncing body parts don't make you feel as disgusted anymore.

The soundtracks and plot is really good, so I suppose the anime does redeem itself.

.
We were shown '13th Documentary' the other day-
The thing about racism is that we all have a general idea of it having been terrible, but we don't know the individual stories, the exact events and acts of oppression,
And we don't feel for those people; we only think of them as history, or a part of a world long gone. We think of the brutality as something extinct, but that's only because of ignorance
And watching this documentary I was fed with so much knowledge about the past and the present,
That it all became a little too much.

I'm pretty sure someone like me can't articulate such an important issue well enough,
And documentaries aren't supposed to be bibles that dictate how we're supposed to think,
Only show what should be known,
But it did shed light on something that I wouldn't otherwise know about, if not for this documentary.
This world is complex, and beautiful in its intricacy,
But sometimes I can't help but feel like we have misused our intelligence for doing some absolutely brutal and unnecessary things; to come up with newer methods that exploit the loopholes in this world, to harm other groups of people, and for the real cruelty to lie in how a society's conditioning can lead to a majority that believes in lynching, in irrational hatred, and in inhumane actions, so much so that they fail to see how wrong and brutal it actually is.
I'm not saying it's right, or understandable-
I'm saying that it's depressing how being born in a different era gives you different ideals and morals, how it drives you to see something so ugly and unfair, as something that should be done, because that means that you and me would probably have done the same, and failed to see the wrongness of it.
The documentary does reveal how those issues persist even to today, and for that industry to be so deeply entrenched in the economy that it's extremely difficult to abolish,
Though that would require more reading on my part instead of mere reliance on a documentary,

And I just cannot begin to fathom why we should be such a young race on this planet, and yet try so so hard to kill each other off, for reasons that would otherwise seem illogical, even insignificant (can you imagine a yellow octopus bullying the red ones because of a certain form of hierarchy?) - if an outsider were to be fed the history that the world has gone through.

.
When it ended
And I could finally tear my eyes off of something I refused to stop watching,
The room filled with awkward laughter
And it became apparent that it was at me, for sobbing
Because no one else had the same reaction.
I didn't have tissues with me, and no one offered any,
And I'd just continuously wiped stuffs to the right side of the face-
I looked bad, and felt worse. I always do

Which is why I stay away from such documentaries,
And I often watch them alone, to learn, and to know.

Either way.. the judgment and stares made it seem like having such emotions is something to be ashamed of;
But really I was more surprised by how I was the only one, because more so than anger at the injustice, there was uncontrollable sadness at the way things happened.
I couldn't bear to watch certain parts,
And I couldn't bear thinking what it must have been like to go through those things, but that's just me, that's probably why I don't fit in, and probably never will.

Sorry for linking it back to me yeah.

.

The other day someone came up to us, had her face scrunched up, and just started crying-
Five minutes of sympathy,
And I felt those feelings for her go away because
She'd literally collapsed to the ground and continued weeping,
Then refused to get a chair for herself-
Mind you, we were in a crowded canteen-
When I carried one over, right next to her, then told her to sit before she talked,
She.. refused
And I in my silly and awkward demeanour held onto her arm, and helped her into it
(On reflection, I shouldn't have- that is one of many stupid decisions of mine-)
And as the monologue ensued for what seemed like forever,
It became clear that she's wasn't weak, just whiny, all it took was a few words on her part,
And she wasn't hurt, just dramatic, and weepy
She didn't want to do anything about her situation, but she wanted her friend to comfort her, so her cries were unending and she talked in this falsetto voice whilst moving in a wriggly manner. (I mean becoming upright to say something inaudible- most of her words were inaudible even when she stopped crying- before slumping back down to cuddle her jacket, and pout)
I am harsh, because i absolutely detest those who are stubborn about remaining as victims, and who are unappreciative of those who help them, because later she'd retort and say things like 'why didn't you tell me what to say sooner?!'
And this friend of hers had been close with me when we were sixteen, so I did feel annoyance from that. Either way, this friend rage-ate and gave sound, succinct advice-
But all she did was go round in circles protecting the one that made her cry, with 'but I'm like that too, and you're___' extracting whatever nice sounding words she wanted to hear from this friend.

In the end
I'd looked at her in the eye, then said, 'I know you don't want to hear this, and it's harsh, but you need to stand up for yourself.'
I said some other stuffs, too
But she disliked it all and her face blackened, so that was that.

May I mention that she never once said thanks to her friend, only to criticise her for eating slowly because they'd not be as early to class?
May I mention that earlier on she literally fell off a chair and I'd helped her,
And I'm not saying she should buy me ten thousand palaces in appreciation,
But a word of thanks would have been nice- and that word just doesn't seem to exist in her vocabulary?

There is only one word to describe such humans, and that is annoying.




.
And then
I thought about why she'd pissed me off so.



Ahh, I thought.
It's because it's always the people like that who have
Herds and herds of friends, ready to be there for them, to rage-eat and give sound advice whilst you're there weeping on the floor,
It's always the people like that who get to weep and weep like it's a luxury and tactic

And not the kind of response that leaves your heart wrenched out and locked up,
The kind that prevents you from crying in front of people when it comes to issues about yourself, not documentaries or movies or the news,

The kind that comes from loneliness and in turn causes it,
The kind that you do alone, alone, alone.


Why is it that only such people are loved;
When we're taught that the best personalities earn it?

It's almost as though
The trashier you are inside,
The more companionship and love you get.

And that, is annoying.







If I opened up about every little thing, cried in public as much as this girl did,
And relied that much on everyone without saying thanks, consistently blaming others for things they shouldn't be faulted with-

Would I then
Not be in the situation that I'm in right now?














.
I need a break from people.

I said too much

I remember when my brother's friends came over to fill his room up with balloons for his birthday as a surprise, and I'd cleaned his room up for him beforehand cuz it probably wouldn't have been good otherwise

-And I'd stood, silently the next morning just gently picking up one balloon after another, observing the remnants of games and jokes that were scribbled across the elastic surfaces in scrawls, 

Just taking it in.

I remember when my cca mates planned one for their best friend of five years,

Right after the performance which I loved to be a part of

They'd pretended to argue, then switched off all the lights in the studio before re-appearing with a cake, candles, and a birthday song. Everyone was in on it, everyone had been briefed,

-And I'd sat, about to remove my stage make-up, clapping along- enjoying it because I liked her, too- and pushing away all thoughts that would ruin things for me.

I remember when people received balloons on their birthdays, had groups of others blatantly freaking out, days before about the gifts, going shopping together after school to decide it,

And the song, the song, the song, which the class sang in a congregation around a blessed soul

-And I'd watched, then thought about how there actually wasn't a need for something that grand (though I've heard of legends whereby they throw parties and have major celebrations),

There was just this tiny little desire for someone to sing for me,

For no one apart from family ever would plan such surprises for me

And I told myself that that was enough.

But let's face it, family is one thing, friends another, and neither can ever fully replace the other.
While some would pursue romance to feel whole, I want only the kind of belonging in a community,

An appreciation for what I am, my place in that big world,

-And I often wonder if I'm being too greedy for wanting more like this.

Rather than self-pity, I think this to be what they call loneliness.

I mean, everyone feels it at some point so it's not like I'm special,

But it hits me the hardest on birthdays,

And I guess I've just never wanted to admit it so honestly to myself.

.

And then I did something extremely cringe-worthy, self-involved, and pointless.

I fantasised about two people in school singing the song for me,

I pictured grinning too hard and hugging one of them,

And there was a tiny slice of cake, an unassuming candle,

And a flame that warmed me better than Milo does

-I couldn't help but be moved, by a reality that isn't real.

Because it was 2.30am when I somehow awoke like a wannabe vampire,
Unable to go back to sleep since, 

Reminded of past birthdays, my birthday,

This, birth, day.

It doesn't take a lot to move me, actually
.

I can't sleep

I don't know why, but there are days like these where the sleep gods desert me,

And I just can't sleep.

I'm sorry it's this up close and personal this time,

But I want to be comfortable enough to admit things, even if they aren't pretty.


.

Six years in this school,
This place I once told myself was a dream school,

And I've never had anyone sing me a birthday song.
Of course it's not the school's fault; I'm just saying that six years ago this hadn't been what I pictured, and looked forward to,
And every year I feel less excited for this one day because I'm never happy till school is over and I am home, when there is love and there is warmth.


Truth is, after waking up at such an ungodly hour,
I ended up feeling really unwell in school
But I stuck around anyway
Because I suppose I thought that if I lingered Long enough like a wandering ghost, one extra person will come up to me and make me feel special.


But I've always only felt special at home.
And during those few short hours, when Mom and dad are back from work,
And I'm babied and loved,

I feel like
Maybe family alone could be sufficient after all.

Maybe I'm not as plagued by this as I thought,
Maybe one childhood Friend outside of school
And one, good, loving family
Is all I need.





.
I cried from loneliness pretty much the whole day, really.

And it's odd that I should be this mopey on a special day,
But I didn't feel special.

It's always the little things..
It's always the same few 'friends' that I've made in the early years of being in this school.

'It's my birthday today, do you remember?' It was out in that jokish way of mine, when I'm trying not to be dramatic and possessed.
'Yeah! Facebook reminded me'
And I just looked at her.
All those conversations we've had, that first shopping trip we shared,
And the closeness I deluded myself into thinking existed.

'Aaaaand... You're not gonna wish me happy birthday?'
But somehow you'd taken offence to my words,
All you did was go 'I remember! I remember!' over and over again, as though I'd struck a chord in you and it was that painful to say those two words to me.


Frankly,I don't even know why I bothered, why I hoped so much for you to say those two words-
But this is like the birthday song I never had;
It means something along the lines of humans accepting you, liking you, and caring enough about you do one silly, shallow convention that doesn't even mean anything.
I wanted you to say those words,
But you didn't,
And I knew that this was just a mere repeat of my past six birthdays,
Where I'd gone to school with increasingly less expectations, more emptiness, and a lack of ability to feel disappointment.


Perhaps it's because it's the last year..

I thought that maybe it'd play out just a little differently
But I remembered the rumours, I remembered the oblivion, and I remembered the coldness.


And there in the library I couldn't help but cry,
I knew what it meant but it was slightly beyond my eighteen-year-old self to hold it back,

Because tears expressed my loneliness in a way that people wouldn't listen,
In a way that words couldn't do.







.
The only good thing was how this new friend had remembered that Natsume Yuujinchou is an anime close to my heart, personal and cherished because it relates so much to what I feel at times,
And she'd gotten me the Book of Friends with actual names of all the characters inside, in calligraphy.
The thing about this gift is that I don't think I've ever seen such thought and understanding poured into one, wrapping included- In which case it's not about wrapping skills but her awkward patching that made unwrapping a maze- And I've never had anyone from school treating me this well,
Not for someone like me-
And it was deeply meaningful because the book of friends is like her saying that I'm not alone, that I've got someone who knows and thinks about me,
Who actually remembers.



I don't know if you'll label me 'emo' for this, outdated as it is-
I just felt so happy that all I could do was hug her,
And then I was hit by a deep wave of loneliness,
Struck by the realisation that if I hadn't talked to her seriously for these past few months,
I would literally have no one left.


I think, I'll never stop caring.

And returning home today all of my family members were extra gentle with me,
Bro was so much less douchy, Mom was so much so smiley.
Everyone knew


... And I felt like the unhappiness that always haunts me on my birthday was alleviated, to the extent of elimination.

This isn't enough, because we need both family and friendship to feel complete.
It might make us weak,
But connections are what makes us strong.

And I don't have that,
But at least I've got the best family that anyone could ever ask for.





.
Typing this, I feel like I can live with this.
I feel like
No matter how much isolation I feel,
No matter how much snot drips from my nose and makes me look like a fool,
No matter how much solitude has overlapped with loneliness for me even though it never should have, and I'm feel the profound effects of that,
I can live with this,
I've got family
And I've got one, new, friend in school.

(I know it's never about quantity, but 'one' is powerful enough to make you double over with the complications of reflection.)

Circles.

I'm not sure if you feel this way, or if I'm the only over-sensitive one

But one side of the family has always felt cold and unfriendly to me.

Today, though

Something about it being the only wedding I've ever attended

Or the fact that everyone's in a slightly more jovial mood-

Being in that tight white dress didn't feel as foreign to me as it would have,

I sipped on cups on fruit punch and mingled, mingled, mingled

-And didn't feel forced, or overly bored.

I jumped around, having in-depth conversations with the photographer and some relatives

One thing for sure in this world:

It is easy to get people to talk about themselves,

And I don't mean this in a I've-got-high-EQ manner, whereby arrogance feeds my soul and my skills;

I mean that it is actually easy- 

If you have the intention to listen, and you're genuinely interested in people without trying too hard to come off that way.

Thing is,

I sometimes do things that don't seem to have much merit to it,

Things like making conversation with a freelance photographer that I'll never see again,
Somehow getting to the pictures she took on vacation,
Why she loves her job,
Her pets, her dog's surgery, her house, her cooking,

And doing the near-meaningless such as her adding me on Facebook

Because there's always something in it for me-

I have trinkets of information on random topics that I use for talking to such people in such fields,

And that in turn teaches me more for future conversations with people of similar interests.

I'm there anyway, so this is a special kind of fun,

The kind of behaviour I want to exhibit wherever I go

... Because I'm sick of feeling self-conscious and out of place,
I want to become sociable and make impressions on people,
I want to be genuine and good at that people thing.

I want not to be stagnant,
I want to overcome this bulkyness about me.

One relative even went so far as to show me most of the pictures in her phone, talking about her vacations and her collections, her devotion to her religion and the events, places, and artifacts.

Another cousin and I somehow ended up on interview tips (even though I hardly have any experience, and she thinks I do), building portfolios for university admission, and so on. (Frankly, I was surprised by how much she was willing to listen, because people can get offended over nothing sometimes.)

I did, however
Shun that one egocentric and narcissistic cousin who does part-time modelling;
I know cuz we've talked and I've seen his writing
That's the kind of empty-headed fool that'd ruin my day
And I guess I make it clear when such emptiness doesn't attract me-
Because he specially came up to say 'hello' at close proximity, waiting for something.

.
The thing about school is that all those people already have preconceived notions about me
N it sounds hypocritical now that I've mentioned that one cousin,
But there's a difference between having proven yourself shallow,
And having it already decided for you without conversation.


I don't think I've said this yet,
But the hostility has levelled up due to the rumours
And it has gotten to a point whereby classmates previously on well terms with me have chosen, deliberately, to not sit next to me in lectures-

And the entire first row is literally vacant;
It's almost as though I have the power for a force field around me,
Repulsive and dangerous
And they're careful to leave about seven seats on either side of me.

Thank goodness I've got someone from another class who sits beside me-
It'd look like the Seventh Lunar Month otherwise.


Ahh... well.

Whenever I talk to them too,
There is this unspoken rule of one-word answers or else they'd contract death from me or something,

They've already decided,
Which is why my attempts at conversation come to complete halts and judgmental stares,
I am condemned from the moment I walk into a room

And I am trying my best to not think about it.




...
Why do we let the littlest humans with pins for a heart affect us so?

All of this is arguably led by a two-faced girl wading in self-pity and jealousy;
But that's about it.


I suppose it's the unfairness of it,
And the extremity,
That constantly nags at me.


Why do we face things we don't deserve, and it's simply because someone else has decided to not let you go, to try to drag you to their hell, and to do so by summoning all the people power they can garner- from hypocrisy and acting-

And you literally have no chance in it?



If this is life,
I beg only to try my best at making it work regardless.

There's something more important,
There is something more important.






.
Have I mentioned that this is, um,
My greatest fear
and it has come true... ?

With a note of melancholy,

I kind of zonked out today;
The headache was becoming too much of a hassle
And I was overcome with a heavy sense of fatigue.

Prac and GP are over- I think I did well.
'The world doesn't need heroes today', vs
'The call for inclusion has gone too far'.

Which do you think I picked?

Why, the latter of course-
I'm really bad with names
But for the sake of GP I'd finally memorised Narendra Modi and not Monendra Madi (I promise you, I'm not making fun of his name- I am thaaaatt bad at these things)
Rodrigo Duterte, Justin Trudeau, and a few others.
The actions and policies are easy to get down since they're like little stories, and are often interesting- But names, man.
Those little words are the bane of my life.

Either way,
I had had all the perfect examples for the first question
But it was too straightforward, and very, very, standard.
Sure I could have talked about the glorification that comes with 'heroes', how that leads to self-righteous actions that contribute to the negativity in the world, how it halts progress instead of bringing it, and the need for issues to be resolved with activists and leaders who bring about change, thereby saving those groups of people, and that'd have been a fun essay in its own right, too
But the second question was simply too alluring for me to ignore,
And I made my decision.

Trust me to pick interest over safety
When grades are this important.


This is like when I wrote on the question 'is obedience always desirable?', or the importance of colour.

Oh, well.
Talking about gender fluidity and the demand for special treatment for groups of people through differentiated terms such as 'a person of color' or 'they' makes for an effect contradictory to its good intentions; it segregates them further because of how carefully people have to tread around shallow words instead of mindsets-
You get the idea,
I had fun with this question.
Perhaps I wouldn't do as well for it, and that's okay.

.
My brother is going mountain climbing again-

I don't understand fit people, I just don't.

I mean..
I climb the- Stairs (look, I even put a capital letter down for it)
... If that counts for something.

Uh.

He makes me feel like the well-earned KFC whose oil I've just done backstrokes in isn't that great an idea, after all.

Screw that health of yours, dude.

.
I haven't had such a great conversation with someone in a loooooooong time.
And by long, I mean that I've almost forgotten what it's like to crack up over something silly and forget that time is passing,
That we can spazz over anime together and debate furiously (with fun, of course) over our reviews of the movie 'A Silent Voice', that we can share enough interests and not be overly similar,
That it can go from trivia to passions to our future,
To the heavier things like the friend I lost because of PW,
that turned out (according to you, since you're a mutual friend)
to have mental instability and a tendency to forget what she did after an outburst.

Truth is,
I wondered if I could have been more understanding,
That if I had known her condition
And understood that stress affected her in a different way than it did me,
That it is why she has stopped coming to school altogether for two months, now (or was it three)
The outcome would still have been the same because her words
Did hurt, in a way that I'm still recovering from

Would I still continue to be a source of support for her-
And if-
If I was a contributing cause-





But I'm human,
And it just wasn't worth it to remain nice to someone who seemed hypocritical and unappreciative,
Or at least that's what I thought

And learning about the truth has made me reconsider things a little.


Either way,
This is the kind of thing you stop thinking about,
And yet still hesitate over;
The kind of thing you know would have played out the same regardless of whether or not you knew beforehand,

That 'goodness' and patience has a limit,

That ultimately,
This is an 'if' question that you don't find answers to,

I could have been more... understanding (?) towards her but it just wasn't worth it-
Well, I don't know, actually.


I really don't.

Still my history of bad friendships has taught me that second chances don't come easy,
That it has never turned out well once I let go of the bullshit they threw at me,
That this was a choice I made for myself-
To be fair to the tears I shed and the injustice I faced.


I want a change for once,
I want to stop attracting people who are either
Bad at heart
Or mentally fragile

I extend help towards those who deserve it
But what if they can't help hurting others, what if it takes a little more concern for that to be overcome?

I'm still learning.



I want to be good to myself,
And I want to be a good person, a good friend, too
But I want to make wise decisions-
Even if it doesn't seem the nicest.


.

Then,
I somehow knew.

Today's conversation was something I haven't felt,
Not in a long while.

And I'd thoroughly enjoyed it.

Before it got too heavy we'd gone on to talk a little about shopping, and clothes,
And you wanted stuff you could try on for prom instead of the low-priced ones disallowed for trying on-

'I've got a dress that would probably suit you, do you want to try it?'

You asked to come to my house,
And I rejected because

It's too soon,
It's too personal and

Just now I finally added your number as a contact,
With a name:
This is progress,
This is rare for me.

And I knew what it meant.



Here's someone who's gotten close enough, who has kinda walked through that door of mine,
And it's only a matter of time before I hold onto this new connection.

I think I might just take this more seriously than I'd intended for it to.



I'll admit-
I miss having a close friend in school.


It's been too long,
And I've finally found a little of what I'm looking for.

Perhaps it's finally the right one,
Although-
I hope how slow it takes me doesn't frazzle you,

And I assure you this isn't an act of desperation because-
We've actually known each other for about two years, now;

It's been gradual awith a touch of tortoise-like slowness,
Which is just the right cup of tea for me.

It all works out if you work for it.

I missed the opportunity of having the manager write a testimonial/recommendation letter for me, but afterwards the librarian I'd initially requested a testimonial from spoke to the overall-in-charge for me and-
Well, long story short: I called up the person in charge and made clear what it was that I wanted, she observed my session today alongside a new volunteer who has yet to go under training,
And it turned out pretty well- This was a really great session imo,
And she'd liked it and said all the things I'd hoped for her to say,
Cuz that means that the testimonial should be in my favour and be rather helpful in the future.

*breathes in*
I've just cleaned up my room,
I skipped breakfast and lunch because I'm silly and unorganised like that,
But I'm happy.
My effort is paying off; things are happening the way I've been working for it to,
And my room looks like a place suitable for human inhabitation again. (Seriously, how did I allow for it to escalate into such a- sty?!) It's kind of an excuse, but I've just been too tired to do what needed to be done. :<

*exhales*
I need to eat.
This is the most unintelligent way to go about doing things,
And I need to sleep.

There's a week or so before GP and Bio practical exams, so we can afford to loosen up those shoulders a little.
Following that is one week of lessons, three weeks of holidays, and it's the rest of the mid-year exams.

Take it a step at a time,
I'm fin-
*coughs up blood*

Yeah, just gon' get that extra hour of bonding time with my best mate, Bed.



.
My mom's colleague's daughter (What a typical Asian line to say HAHAHA)
has been giving me all these clothes that she doesn't wear anymore, or that are brand new but unwanted for some reason.
And I know what it sounds like,
But damn-
I have done nothing to deserve this, (not even socialise)
To receive a couple of bags of rather amazing clothes, stuff I've always wanted to buy but don't, stuff too out of my budget or my typical preferences, or formal clothing that makes me look good, but which isn't suitable for any of the places I go to. Some are a little big on me, but most of it work out well.

(Let's face it, I now have too many nice clothes and literally no place to wear it to- It still doesn't stop me from putting it on and twirling around in my room tho)
The items that she rejects are more than my entire wardrobe combined, how bout dayht

It's such a happy problem to have;
To return home and spend too much time trying on clothes,
Only to get exhausted from that since it only adds on more strain to the essays and timed practices that I've been churning out like a spitting Merlion, only less graceful and not as liked.

Side note?
I simply don't understand how someone can have more than two pairs of jeans-
I don't understand wardrobes of people, period.

The only pair that I own, I've been wearing for three years
And here it is, a human who casually gives me six pairs that are tight-fitting, flattering, and flattering- I'm sooooo psyched because she's similar in height and size to me (which isn't often), only more well-endowed (yeaaahhhhhhh... It's okay because I have her rejected wardrobe)
And I can now leave the house dressed in something other than my one-nice-dress and my one-good-shirt. The jeans that I've owned aren't actually nice looking, so this is quite the huge step up.

The best part is how it's allll
freeeeeeeeeeeee.

Oh my, I've gone on and spazzed for too long and too much-
I (insincerely) apologise. 😊

This breaks my heart

DaddyoFive is a channel that supposedly posts videos of pranks that parents conduct on their children, but really it is emotional abuse with an ever-surfacing undercurrent of violence.
The Father gaslights Cody, blames him for whatever he doesn't do, gets angry at him for self-harming because of all this, constantly says things like he will put him up for adoption, then sums it all up as a 'prank' just so he can escape responsibility.
It is heartbreaking that Cody should say something like 'You've ruined my life', or 'None of you love me, none of you ever did', or that Emma should say that 'I don't want you guys terrorizing me today'.

The children join in because there's this culture of 'bully or be bullied', generating a culture of survival of the fittest in that household.
The mother while not a main contributor is the silent bully in this,
Where she pulls out fake sobs and tears whenever required to shirk responsibility while the father sits beside her, frowning because it is a calculated, manipulative emotion used to depict guilt- Only, it isn't actually present.
This is especially clear in how he refers to you tubers who make videos about the ongoing child abuse, calling out for help, awareness, as 'haters'. When that doesn't work, he and his wife gradually slips into an act of feeling responsible, releasing an apology video that couldn't be more insincere.
Listen, no one sobs at being wronged, or guilt
The same way that Heather does: Staring into the camera without looking away, eyes rimmed with tears but no occasional lapses into sobs or a change in tone, or even a change in expression from a new wave of emotion, or realization.
That, is acting.

And it's very bad acting.


Besides that, she is the one that remains silent as the father yells at, hits, and jeers at his son for reflecting the damage done upon him, and she is the one to provide snarky comments to add on to the unloved feeling that Cody and Emma feel.
To tie it all up, she sobs openly for the camera in a Twitter video, and forces those two children to comfort her out of obligation.

Talk about hypocrisy, true repulsiveness, and a pig-like figure, and you get someone like that.


Clearly, the abuse in his videos isn't staged, nor is Cody or Emma acting upset; they ARE.
If you watch any of the reuploaded videos you'd see that they constantly choke up with emotion, and because the dad is a regular screamer, Cody shuts him out by either holding onto his safety blanket, or crying so hard that he only ever stops to take in deep gulps of air, too agitated to calm down or phrase his words properly. The only way he knows to cope is to cover his ears and yell out 'blah blah blah' in order to protect himself from verbal attacks, and this further manifests itself in how he chooses to bully Emma sometimes instead of the usual protection that he provides, because that's the only way he'll receive praise or at least, have attention directed away from him.
At the end of the videos, when his dad asks him
'Was it fun?'
He'll nod, because there's no way he couldn't.
'Was it fun-ny?'
He'll again, nod, face blank of emotion, heart soft and loving and open and hurt,
Because he still wants approval, he still wants to feel accepted and loved

But he is the scapegoat child, and he has to face all that.


But no child should have to;
This is messed up, it is wrong,
And that man is disgusting to his core. If you sliced him up what lies on the inside wouldn't be a black core,
It'd be a black hole,
One that seeks to destroy,
One that laughs at his son's breakdown, who swears at him and yells at him so much because he can feel the power it holds over Cody,
One that revels in his son's urgent hyperventilating sobs and trembling clutch to his baby blue blanket,
One that sucks all the love and kindness out of a pure, budding, soul.



I'm so relieved that Emma and Cody are out of that hell hole now,
But learning about this right now has really, really, upset me.

That is not something a human would do to a child,
And self-harming shouldn't be something that people do,
Much less a child.

This is so messed up and ugly. :(

The ghosts you know by name

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FVpG-RtZFE0

CloZee has to be my new favourite;
She's amazing.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6QvMcQ2Eejo

Secret Place

Soul Search

Elevated

Release me;

I'm a little obsessed with these
... if you couldn't tell.

Ah, well,
Enjoy.

Hit, smash, explode.

Grapes are the fountain of youth

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AIuxqfYX7rQ

I've been skipping meals recently.

Well... No surprise there, that's how I cope.
Last night I told myself that enough was enough
I went to the fridge and stuffed some grapes in my mouth.

The bursts of flavour felt a little more than refreshing-
It was more like drinking from a faucet that supplies ice peach tea on a typical Singapore afternoon,
And it felt as though my dehydrated self was slowly gaining my energy back.

I think,
That I reached my limit quite a while back
But I continued maxing it out anyway like a burnt-out credit card strapped for cash cuz
There wasn't much choice; I'd just gone through a hectic week with numerous rehearsals, the final production of my JC school life, a test, a speech competition, an essay that was due
And the general workload.

Some days you get so drained
You lack the energy to hold a pen
-I'm not exaggerating there,
It took all of.my willpower to keep my eyes open in GP
Even though we were told to write an essay
And my brain couldn't conjure up Engrish or Englishes.

The best part was that there was still a test and a performance to go for the exact same day-
And it was after I'd managed to complete an essay an hour before going to school.

After lunch,
I thought to revise a little more right before the test itself

It happened like a reflex: Spectacles came off, and my head was too burdensome to be supported by my tense neck alone. Like a deflated balloon, I felt the rigidness leave my rock-like shoulders
And I slumped, on that table in the library with the annoying renovation works going on around me. It wasn't the ideal situation or location for a nap,
But I was out.
I was out like a light,
And the next thing I knew upon opening my eyes was that I had had one of those transportive light-years-naps that makes you feel like you're stepping out of a salon in the underworld.
I felt a part of my soul return
And this further made me believe in guardian angels specifically (and not god)
Because I'd been granted something I so desperately needed
And I had woken up exactly five minutes before the test period just so I can climb the stairs unrushed, and with my head clear of dizziness.

The only embarrassing part about it (Apart from the fact that people probably saw my sleeping face like a television)
Was that I had left a part of me behind.
Literally;
It wasn't a mere strand, but a puddle of drool on the table,
And instantly I thought of how animals piss on things to mark their territory
Only to feel a little flushed at my own lack of self-control.

Seriously though-
This doesn't happen at all because I have the habit of closing my mouth when I eat, or sleep,
And I guess it only turned out that way because I was that far gone.

The rest of the day turned out alright;
I went through it like I was going through a checklist
And it was all done pretty well in my opinion.

The only thing about this year's performance is that it didn't feel like much: It's interesting to act in a satirical piece but I suppose my preferences lie in emotional connection, and I'd really wanted to try my hand at a musical. All that aside, I wasn't even nervous for it, nor did I desperately hope for important people to come and watch it. (I suppose, that it's due to all the things that have been going on; I didn't have enough energy to fret over those kinds of over sensitive thoughts.)
A simple emotion ran through me
-And I hesitate to share this, because it's like I didn't take it seriously, but I did, and always do for anything I choose to participate in;
 I just didn't feel as emotionally invested or as excited as I should have-
I was satisfied that it was over.

By that point,
All I wanted to do
Was to go home, face my emotions about what I learnt about the rumors
Shower, and sleep.





I was too busy with everything else to have dinner even though everyone else in the studio disappeared at different times, organised enough to take care of their bodies before the actual show
And before I knew it
It was midnight,
The makeup I'd put on myself (a pretty good job, I must say) was removed,
The day was over,
And I'd started to cry because I was talking to my parents about it.

A lengthy hot shower,
And I let everything wash itself down the drain clogged with hair,
A little like a honest session with my own exhaustion.
As I somewhat hyperventilated with quiet chokes I felt like something was emptying itself out, and I got this close to vomiting- That's what happens when you don't eat.

That night,
I was too tired to sleep.
The thing is that I tell myself I'm overreacting,
But the thing is I haven't shared it with people other than the close ones,
And I wasn't interested in retaliation or venting.
I just wanted to get it out, and move on.

The next day I had the usual storytelling session
And before that
Fatigue weighed on me so bad
I let go of what the librarian would think of me
And allowed for the eyelids swollen with water retention to lower
Till at last I was utilising the half an hour I had from being early for my own benefit,
Instead of reading extra stories out or to socialise with the kids.

Strangely, I was in the mood for jeans, a hoodie, a bun, and a cup of milk tea even though I was never a fan of it.
Leaning against the bright orange wall printed with (what was it again?)
I let my head cock to the side, exposing my dark circles and mood.

Frankly,
I was feeling quite sick of people;
As an introvert (And I'd never use this as an excuse, only a reason for my weakness)
I needed hours of silence to myself,
And I needed rest.

Then the librarian in charge came over,
And instantly I flipped the switch back on because it wasn't a conscious decision by this point, but a reflex-
And she told me that the manager was coming to watch my session.

A flash,
And I was back to my usual self-
It was performance mode, and even though I didn't feel ready I told myself to make it so.

After the session,
I would shake hands with this soft-spoken guy in a blue shirt and a gentle smile with my rings on because I hadn't thought that far;
He'd ask me why I chose this and I'd all of a sudden be the way I usually am when I have to present myself well
And I would surprise myself,
Not with how I was able to carry myself well despite the zone I was in just forty minutes ago,
But how quickly the change had occurred, a bit like evolution from selection pressures in speed form
And I was too attentive to everything to remember how close I was to throwing up, and how I didn't have lunch, or breakfast, only a song and some water.

All of it worked out well, though.

"I've been wanting to meet you," He'd say, and we'd shake hands.
"You seem like a very seasoned storyteller," He'd say, and ask me if I had had experience doing this before.
"If you ever want a job at NLB, just come and I'll make sure you get in"

I just looked at him.
Honestly the second part of his sentence came out all blurry because I knew his meaning from the first few words, and my mind refused to accept it so easily.
I even hesitated to ask him for a recommendation letter even though it's what I've been working towards, and this is the surest way to getting it if I'd asked him straight out.
I.. suppose..
When you're a little young and a little too sleep deprived to function normally
You hesitate at the important moments-
But that doesn't mean that I've lost it all;
I've just lost an opportunity at an easier method, is all.

"We're lucky to have you." He'd ended,
And by then I was too surprised to do anything but smile as confidently as I could, replying with a simple thank you.

Because this isn't the kind of things you say to be nice,
And you wouldn't phrase it in this way if it is simple, insincere flattery, at least at someone of your position.

I then recalled how the librarian had suddenly permed her hair and applied a full face of makeup, and made sure that she was within two-steps' distance while we talked.


My,
I'm a little too inexperienced for something like this,
And I'm still unsure but at the very least it hadn't seemed to show- Well, very much, anyway-
And I am determined to give it my best shot like I always do.

Don't be complacent, or arrogant,
But it does mean a little something if they've been saying enough things about me to make the manager want to meet me.
At least up here I can be a little more direct, can't I?

One more month of this, and I'm halting all sessions to focus on the As.
Let's hope that the letter/testimonial that I've requested for is well on its way, shall we?
I still can't believe that I'd hesitated..
I guess that's the seventeen-year-old in me,
I guess we all start somewhere.




.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=DLWqxqMYlXE

I'll tell you about the speech competition another time;
There is enough boring detail about my life to keep you around.