Catharsis #2697

"Don't forget the school letter tomorrow."

Ma poked her head through the door of my room and left an envelope on the desk.

"I'm not going tomorrow lah."

I was on my bed, trying to sleep. Not that I was going to have a long day tomorrow.

"But it's Friday. Half day. You'll feel good after prayers."

I shifted to my other side, facing away from the door. Ma was always the optimist. She stood her ground, a slender shadow looming over me from the lighted doorway. We didn't exchange words for a while. Until I heard a sigh, then, "Good night, sayang."

The door closed and the light was gone. I shifted again and laid on my back, desperate to sleep. The time was almost ten, brought to you by my Sony smartphone. Way too early for sleepy time. And definitely way too stuffy for my liking. I sat up and hugged my long, not-too hairy legs, resting my chin between my knees.

  It was the third time in a week I'd decided against school. My parents seemed to buy it that there was not much to the lessons except self-revision, what with exams around the corner and being able to do it at home and all that jazz. My mum was always one to see through it and suspect something was up, although she didn't know what. My dad ,of course, dismissed any worries about his intelligent and strong boy having issues in school (for the record, I'm underweight and my grades are average).

And that's okay. I don't want them mixing around in my life. Or should they? Am i being brave and independent or just a punk ass bitch, as they put it, if I confide in my parents? Why should I put them first, ahead of my very own parents?

A sudden pain seared through my side. Shit, that's why, I thought to myself.

Pulling up my shirt, I stared at my body and imagined the bruises through the darkness. I groped for the yoko-yoko on my bedside table. Apparently using muscle pain ointment helps with punches to the body. Heck it, I thought.



The first thing I remember about school isn't the knowledge, not the teachers, and most definitely not the food. Nah. It's all about the people you're in contact with the most next to your parents. Yup, my dear friends. "Them," if you will, as I endearingly referred to previously.

You see, I have this issue with my friends where I'm being taken advantage of. Because I was so mentally weak and physically just average, I am easily stepped on, easily mocked, easily made fun of. I was a laughing stock, the joke of my friends. It was beyond horrible. Couple that with my dwindling grades. I wasn't intelligent. I was especially shit at science. I was weak, and I was stupid. Everyday was a living nightmare. I left school everyday physically and mentally bruised.

Of course, as with every case, I didn't involve any manner of adult in the shithole I was in. I wanted to feel independent, to feel like I didn't need help. Maybe that was my undoing after being brainwashed by my friends, my dear loving friends. What I knew, or what I was made to think, was that I would be especially weak to confide in my parents or my teachers. Even to the point that that wouldn't help, somehow. I was terrified. Kids kill themselves because such things. I would be living hell for a year. And there was nothing I could do about it.



The door opened again.

"Yes, Ma, I'm going tomorrow lah. Joking only."

The low voice that replied caught me for a second.

"Jangan kesah dengan kawan-kawan merepek kau tu. Jangan dengar dorang cakap kau bodoh lah tu semua. Sekarang, exam lagi penting. Belajar betul-betul, tunjuk dorang sape yang bodoh."

 "Yang penting bukan popular atau bagus main bola atau paling handsome ape semua tu. Sekarang memang selalu susah; kene tahan je. Now isn't the time to fight back. Keep your head down, work hard. Esok, kite tengok sape susah. Esok kite nampak sape yang pandai."

(Translation: Don't care about your lousy friends. Don't believe them when they call you stupid and the like. Right now, exams are more important. Study hard, and show them who's the true imbecile.

What's important isn't being the most popular, or best at soccer, or most handsome etc. It is always going to be tough, we have to tolerate. Now isn't the time to fight back. Keep your head down, work hard. Tomorrow, we see who suffers. Tomorrow, we see the shrewd.)

I nodded my head from underneath the blanket. Whether my dad saw or acknowledged my subtle reply, I will never know. The door did close though.

Every word my father had said made sense.

I reassumed my sleeping position, concealed within blankets. The menthol was freezing over, and comfort was at a premium.

But I felt better. I felt trust, and I felt belief. Tomorrow was going to be a new day. Time to keep my head down and tahan, and tolerate all that BS. Five, ten years on, maybe, we will indeed see, who is the truly shrewd.


-Long story short, I did. And it sure as hell wasn't them ^^

Purgation

The atmosphere was dry with tension and quiet anticipation. I had myself upright on the chair, instead of my laid-back lean with my European leg cross on, one lap neatly crossed over the other, a sign of confidence or utter nonchalance. Today was a big day, and my body language knew it. I even had my shoes on.

The class made an effort to cheer on everyone who went up front to get their results, but we gave up and shut ourselves up a few names later. I kept myself quiet too. I just wanted to calm these rattlesnakes in my stomach. The room temperature dialed up a notch. I calmly flexed my neck. Air bubbles quietly cracked away. I had a fair amount of confidence, but something had my head held in my hands.

As atrocious as my Malay had been, I was pretty much expecting a golden A1. An A2 would mean a good deal, maybe a few cockups here and there. B3 would mean going through this roller coaster from hell again. I didn't have any thoughts about getting any lower grade, partly cause I wasn't that pessimistic, but mostly cause I would be too busy hanging myself on a noose if I did. Anyway.

My teacher had himself announcing names along with said students' grade, so that didn't spoil the surprise for me at all. Nor all my buddies.

When my name was called, I briefly got up and quietly grabbed the sheet of paper, all the time forgetting he'd mention my grade. Of course, I was duly reminded, at just the most opportune time possible.

B3.

I hadn't even returned to my seat yet. Hell, I hadn't managed to ready myself psychologically for a B3. My spine went numb with cold. I flipped up the paper. There it was. My eyes screened through the badly photocopied piece of paper and stop at my grade.

B-friggin-3.

I felt my face going white and my legs going weak.The room suddenly went cold. I plopped onto my chair, dumbstruck. My buddy beside me would later remark that I'd immediately shut up after I got my results.

B3.

I didn't know what to feel. Anger? Pity? Contempt?  Holy cow, I felt the lump forming in my throat and salty tears hurting my eyes with the fake lenses. Shit don't cry, I thought. There are kids dying in Africa.

Somehow knowing kids are dying in Africa is supposed to cheer people up and make things better. It doesn't. Stop doing that, anyone trying to cheer anybody up. Anyway.

I manage to hold back the tears though. I was just not myself for majority of this shitshow.

B3. I chuckled in disbelief to myself. Unbelievable.

I had to face my friends afterwards and keep a stiff upper lip smiling and congratulating them on their guaranteed A1s. Yes yes, good for you! Congratulations, it all paid off! Damn, don't get too cocky! I knew you could do it! I saw them cheer and rejoice between themselves and laugh and generally be happy with their results. I looked on a distance away, alone and pitiful as I was. I felt alone and I felt left behind.

The lump was acting up again. My smile flinches, oblivious to everyone, of course. My day was done. Get all these thoughts out. Time to partition the depression and bounce back. Life still goes on, and so do five other subjects.

B3 though straight up unbelievable.

Do Me a Favour - Arctic Monkeys

What makes me happy?

• Milk. Nothing to rouse the spirits than some calcium in the body. The refreshing feel of the milk running down my throat cheers me anyday of the week. If only it was neither expensive nor harmful if taken too much.
• Music. A haven from the real world, escaping to a utopia where anything that can happen, will happen. Sounds you thought never existed, feelings unfathomable pieced beautifully in an amazing cocktail of words and rhythm. It's like daydreaming but with audio. And no picture. I don't think I need to elaborate more bahahaha.
• Reading and writing. Another refuge from reality. Think watching a movie, but more rewarding. Besides the vast imagination that isn't limited to certain imagery (ahem movies), you improve your language and exposure and tend to look more intelligent too. And you are. Hahaha.
• Discovery. Meeting a new friend, seeing new places, finding a stack of old photos, listening to a new album. There's not much to top off being able to add some new zest to my daily routine of boredom.
• Guitaring. It's a hobby, what do you expect?

Of Monsters and Men - Mountain Sound

Insanity.

Disclaimer: I am(visually) fine!!!!

Really though. I'm tired of explaining what little they can understand from whatever I went through regarding my vision. What's important, is that my vision is fine, all praises to Allah, and that I'm just long-sighted and therefore need spectacles. But of course, I should explain what exactly happened and what's gonna happen nao.

Here goes.

Let's go right back to the surgery itself. Two surgeries, two weeks, two eyes, and a lot of money. The lenses in my eyes are surgically removed and replaced with a pair of synthetic lenses, also called intraocular lens. 

These pair of lenses are monofocal, meaning they can only focus through one area. Similar to camera lenses, it basically means I can only focus on one area, near or far, or whatever, really. One will be made blur and the other as clear as daylight on a sunny beach. These lenses are made to a certain degree such that I am long-sighted. I had two other choices where I could be short-sighted and need spectacles for distance sports like, er, well, sports. (you can see why I ditched it) or be long on one and short on the other, which while sounding like the best of both worlds, it takes a /lot/ of getting used to. 

Anyway, back to the surgery. Post surgery recovery time constitutes getting used to the fake lenses, which took nearest makes no difference, a month. After (painfully, I should add) waiting out the month, I get a pair of spectacles ready. This pair of spectacles are no different than your normal spectacles, the only difference being that they're for long-sighted eyes, so they enable me to be near-sighted, hence affectionately being called "reading glasses."

After everything, I'm basically the same person, but better. My long vision is almost spot on, halos aside, and my near vision crap, hence the glasses. I have to admit I rely on my spectacles with simple activities like reading and writing (none of these two for a month I was dead) (I couldn't have sports too and that basically rammed the damn hammer into the coffin beside the final nail) (yep) and that makes for a bit of trouble. I also suck at distance related activities, like gauging when to smack the shit out of a shuttlecock or anticipating a volley to shoot the ball into the roof of the net.

I don't regret anything though. If this is what's planned by powers beyond myself, then I will follow through. I apologise in advance if my new found vision makes me a worse sportsman and a troublesome person in essence.