Tuesday, September 6, 2011 . 9/06/2011 12:54:00 PM

Dear B.L.

I've known you since we were probably babies, since I can't even remember how we met, and that Mum had been going on and on about how she and your mother had been colleagues when they were pregnant with us.

I've always known you like this: the tall cocky boy who talks like a bullet-train. The genius who gets good grades. And the perfect cook.

Obviously, everything that I'm not.

To cut the story short, I hated you.

Every trip to your house, during or after the visit, I'll have lectures of

"See? B did his assessments himself."
"See, B has all Band 1s."
"You know, he taught his female classmate how to cook for her boyfriend."
"He's so good in both his English and Chinese."
"He scores XX for PSLE/O levels/A levels."

Needless to say, I resent being compared to you.

Really, it's pretty unfair I'm being compared to you. Since we live in an Asian society, and the fact that we're Chinese, it's unavoidable. Still, I hated it. Very much.

Wanna compare how different I am to you?

1. I'm a girl. You're a boy. (duh)

2. I'm a 91. You're a 90.

3. I'm quiet. You're really noisy.

4. You're tall. I'm, well, (not really) short.

5. You can cook. I'm not allowed to be in the kitchen.

6. You have ambitions. I have dreams.

7. You have fantastic grades compared to mine. All Band 1s compared to my Band 2s peppered here and there. A good xx points compared to my absymmal xx points for O levels. And since we can't exactly compare tertiary education grades, let's just say, you're heading for law school, while I AM a civil servant.

8. I guess this is the point that irks me, although we have no control over this. You have a happy family, while mine's... broken.

Really, even I can see I'm extremely jealous of you. You have a happy family, good grades, capability and a good life; everything I want and tried and couldn't get.

And maybe, on top of that, I was heartbroken that Mum had to compare me to you. It's like subtlely telling me she wanted me to be like you, the Perfect Child.

Well, that was years ago. My depressing years are over. I've accepted that I can't ever be like you, Boy Genius. Weeks ago, I got the courage to tell Mum I really hated being compared to you, and pointed that out. I'm sure she won't do it again. Then again, my complex isn't as bad anymore.

Really, you have a great environment to succeed. Our circumstances are different, but I'm working hard, and I'm sure you are too, so at least, we have some degree of suffering >.<

You're a big boy now. You're about to explore the world even more. I don't know you at all, but I'm sure your parents must have taught you to be your own person and I hope, at heart, you're a good person and not the monster that I saw for years. It's such a far cry from our younger selves when we could just play around and I would just follow you because you were older. I don't think we could ever be that close, since, well, you're a guy and I'm a girl (I'm sorry, this is a lousy excuse).

All the best to you and your pursuit of your ambitions, and hopefully, dreams. You'll forever been known as That Big Boy to me.

Yours sincerely,
Vi

p.s. This is a poorly written letter since my mind is still fuzzy from the lack of sleep due to the bloody insomnia I've been having for nights. I'm sincerely sorry about the load of rubbish up there that doesn't make any sense. I shall start a mission. I'm gonna write letters to significant people who have/had made significant impact in my life. Not that they're gonna read it. It's more for myself to accept these impacts and admire or forgive them.

Here goes...

Friday, August 26, 2011 . 8/26/2011 08:32:00 AM

I've never been a big fan of the male species.

Well, if your dad left the family in a dramatic way, your once-male-best friend abandoned you for reasons that escape your head, your pre-U education is traumatised by the dominant male population, where majority of the dickheads are assigned to your class and you're filled with jealousy for the childhood (again, male) friend whom Mum always compared you to and has achieved nearly everything you've ever wanted in life, then you'd probably understand.

Well, it's not that I was abused or assaulted in anyway in the past. It's just that there's this voice in me that tells me that men aren't the best creatures in the world, and I should just keep my distance. Indeed, I do keep my distance, although, sometimes, I find it hard to move away without being awkward, when the other party is clueless about my discomfort at the invasion of my personal space. Then again, usually, that little acting personality of mine always saves the day by, well, acting a little out-of-character (not that they know anyway) and hide all the signs (anxious eyes, sweaty palms, fidgeting, etc) that I'm nervous.

I think my problem is "forgiveness". I think the root of it all is me not having the ability to forgive my father for all his unforgivable deeds. Well, maybe I do have the ability, but it's just my unwillingness to forgive him. I can't forgive him for putting Mummy in her condition back then, and betraying the family by leaving with the other woman. Although he never did tell us about the other woman. Words can't even describe the hurt I felt for the many despicable things he did and left for us to finish. And maybe, in my young mind then, I couldn't forgive myself for being 'not good enough' to be his daughter for him to stay.

That probably stemmed it all. It didn't help that Mummy sent me to a girls' school, where my interaction skills with boys were impaired more than they already were. Even if I live with two brothers, I can never know what's going on in a guy's mind. It intimidates me, not knowing what they're thinking, since they're from Mars, and not knowing how to react to their every action.

It's easy to hide this fear, but it's hard to control it. Hiding is easy. Controlling takes a bit of willpower to override this overwhelming feeling of dread in me when a guy is near.

It's better these days though. Better than the days I isolate myself and ONLY talk to girls and women. I get to know some nice guys who, with time, are able to let me lower my wall of defence against them. It's still there, but I guess it's not as thick as before.

Mummy said to me recently, "You should give men a chance."

Maybe I should.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011 . 7/05/2011 08:50:00 AM

It's been a long long while.

I'm starting to blog again because I'm trying to stop myself from tweeting too much. I've been seeing too many depressing tweets these days, so blogging might be a better platform to write out these pent-up feelings.

I don't know why, but ever since I started working, my days have been so lonely. Okay, I take back the "I don't know why". I've been working like a rescue worker during disasters. My weekdays are filled with work, then tuition, there's barely enough time for socialising. My weekend is also filled with work, although there's more time. But the fact that my weekends are more free, it doesn't equate that I get more time with my friends. The weekends is their precious time with their boyfriends. Their darling boyfriends. Oh wells~ I have to accept the fact that even best friends forever fall below their beloved one.

I guess it's jealousy working into me. I KNOW it's jealousy. It's because I see that my opinions are worth so little, and my presence doesn't matter. Even exciting plans were crushed, and replaced with uneventful ones. Sometimes, things don't even make sense.

But that's how love is, right? That "things don't make sense". It is also "blind", "deaf" and "mute". That's how it's always been. I haven't experience anything yet, but I've already given up. I'm not willing to give up my dignity to become a damsel in distress, with a knight who saves the day, albeit in nonsensical and unreasonable ways.

Nowadays, the point of having a relationship is to get married in the future. Look at the divorce rates now. I'm looking at my own mother, aunts and grandmother. They aren't giving me any good example as to why marriage is a good thing. Look at (majority of) the boys in my class. They're dickheads (yes, dicks for heads). I haven't met a boy whom I like good enough to say the word "love". Well, most of them usually give me one more reason to say "I hate guys".

And the ironic thing is, I have two brothers. They're probably the only guys I love (but I'm not saying it out loud in public, nor in front of them). The other ironic thing is, I have a crush. And he ain't looking this way. "Oh well~", says my cursed heart.

So all in all, I shall say, unless a dream guy really appears, my love life is dead. Probably for the rest of my life. And for now, I really don't care.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011 . 4/27/2011 02:33:00 AM

Oh gosh! There's an error with the html! Need to fix it someday!!

Everyday, I'm asking myself this:

Am I in love with him? Or not?

Okay. I don't really like this writing style. Let's try another one when I write my next entry.