Thursday, January 17, 2013


When I was studying in IPG, I had this fear and suspicion that people were only close to me for a reason.

I felt like I was not worthy of any human companion and I never really had any close friendship back in school. Being an overweight kid, my self-esteem was non-existent and my only salvation was English and I found joy in Choral Speaking. The attention is not given on you but on the whole group performing the Choral Speaking. So, I felt less of a dork and enjoyed every training session. However, I remembered the incident when I was in Form 2. At the time, I went to an afternoon session school. At 11 a.m., I received this call from my classmate, informing me that I had to take part in Public Speaking which would be held on the same day. People told me that I had a straight face and it looked as if I was always cool and never felt fear or caught being nervous. Maybe there was some truth in what they were saying since I nailed that Public Speaking thingy despite having no formal training and within a limited time (almost none) to practise.

When I got to UPM, a dick in the form of a coursemate asked me to get into a relationship with him. Suddenly, it seemed like my prayer for love had been answered. But God had a funny way to show me that I wasn’t ready for a life-long commitment.

When it was time for group work, before I was in a relationshit, I always feared that nobody wanted to be in the same group with me. I knew I had a reputation of being the killjoy in the group since I always got my job done way before the due date and I didn’t like to leave thing at the last minute. Most of the time, when people asked me whether I had completed a particular assignment or presentation, the answer would most likely be “yes”. So, some people thought that I was trying to show off and some even called me a suck-up and ass-kisser as I always asked the lecturers everything that I didn’t understand about a particular assignment or presentation.

After I got into the relationshit, I was holding on to the wrong person for so long and everything that I did was overshadowed by him. If I didn’t include him in the group work, he would be pissed and ignored me for days. He even called me names and his favourite was “bodoh” which was ironic since I graduated with a first class degree.

My friends (the ladies) tried to save me from him as most of them had run into him, hand in hand with other bitches but I was too blind to see. Or rather I didn’t want to see. I was afraid nobody would want to be with me in group work. It sounded stupid now that I thought about it but at the time, hundreds of miles away from my family, my only rock was my idiot boyfriend who didn’t see head of tail of everything. I knew he used me, financially, academically and emotionally. Everytime we wanted to go back home for the holiday, it was usually my money or my mother’s money (for return tickets). Everytime we went out to eat, I was usually the one paying. And for almost every assignment, that was my idea with his name on it. Without me, I didn’t think he would be able to graduate with a second class degree. And emotionally, I was used a punching bag. I knew he had other bitches, one in UTM and a few in UPM where we were studying and I knew I was only a spare part in case the others forgot to give him money.

And I forgot other potential candidates with whom I could have spent my whole life with just because I was being loyal (loyally stupid). I could have been with Ragu, Nazri, Fahad or Terrence but I pushed away any single guy that was trying to get close. So, if one day he asked for forgiveness and asked me to forget and let go, I would kick him right in the balls. Oh wait, he’s sackless!

So, I stayed.

Even on his wedding night, he sent a text that he would always love me and we would eventually be together. What a first class, mega, giant A-HOLE.

Since then, I had trust and abandonment issues. I always regarded someone who is trying to get close to me to have an ulterior motive. And I’m always afraid to be alone. But no matter how hard I try, I would end up being alone anyway. You know that feeling when the tables around to you at the canteen are all full and you are the only one eating alone? Yeah, that is me. Or what about during courses, other people are ready with their tablemates but your table is still empty as nobody wants to sit next to you? Yeah, that is me.

You know when you bite off even more than you can swallow and it got stuck in the middle of your throat? That is exactly how I feel everytime I am being left alone. But I put up a big, fat facade to show the world I’m A-OKAY even though I am screaming inside and thinking of ways to die.

Sometimes I feel people hate me for no reason. And that giant pit in my stomach starter to become bigger until I feel into it, never to recover.

So, when my students complain that things are hard for them or they are crying because their boyfriend left them or their girlfriend has to move to another place, let me say kids, I had people shit a giant dump on my head and I kept moving on, despite the rotten smell and the tarnished scar left on my heart. If you want to be a whining bitch, I will bitch slap you so hard that you will forget which side of the atmosphere you’re living in. And if you are making that as an excuse to not excel in academics, I would slap you again that you will forget which hand you use to write.

Pardon my violence, things have not been so good at home lately. My foster grandwitch, I mean, grandmother is making life hard to live. She can move her feet and relieve herself in the toilet which she pestered us to build and which cost 5K but she insisted on wearing diapers. And in the morning, my mom and I would be her slaves to mop her piss as she piss on the floor and on the bed until we run out of bedsheets. She would wreck her room by taking out all the used diapers and strewn them all over the room and then we have to mop it again with antiseptic and Dettol . Then, we would have to endure the horrifying and gut-wrenching smell of adult waste while we bathed her and changed her diaper which she will once again throw away. And then even though her hands work just fine, we would have to feed her and refill her water dispenser and make Milo twice daily with Anlene (all that shit about drinking Anlene to make your bones stronger, they lie) and sugar. She eats almost six times a day, even more than National Service trainees. Nasi lemak for breakfast, kuih in between breakfast and lunch, lunch plus grape or pomegranate, tea time- usually biscuit or bubur kacang, dinner and then Milo again. Despite this royal treatment, if however guests come to my house and see her, the only thing she would tell them is how she longs to eat this and that and how bored she is. She is never grateful no matter how good we treated her. My mom is the one who suffers a lot as when I am at work, she has to take care of this witch as my father can’t do it because it’s haram and that witch is not my father’s mahram. Upon reflection, I know the reason why Allah SWT didn’t grant the witch any children because she does not deserve the most precious gift as she is a cold-hearted person without no sense of appreciation and gratitude for the sacrifices that my whole family have been making for her sake while her true family, like her nieces and nephews and that prodigal son, her nephew who she cared for since a baby, don’t give any fuck to her and let my family be the slaves to fulfil her every whims and fancies.

I also guess Allah SWT gave this witch to my family because He knows we can take care of her and not lose our sanity while we are at it. And I hope Allah SWT has a plan, a good plan for my whole family for our sacrifices and patience and tolerance while we try to keep our cool after being tested day after day by this inconsiderate witch.

And that is why I think my life sucks. Everybody hates me. Once my lecturer told me I had a very condescending face. I guess she was right. Maybe that is why people hate me and do not want to sit next to me. Maybe that is why people do not want to be close to me like I am contagious. Maybe Allah SWT thinks I am strong enough to face this and He is giving a sign that this is how it is going to be for the rest of my life. And how do I deal with it? By ignoring these hateful voices inside my head and keep doing what I think is best. By working hard for myself and not living my life for the sake of others. Even when I am hated for being who I am and doing what I want or going where I want to be. If this is the price for individuality, so be it.

P/S: I don’t understand people who take another chair to a table of four and have to practically squeeze themselves in the tight spot just because they do not want to be sitting alone.

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