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Monday, June 5, 2017

The last supper.

The anticipation for the feast was vibrant.  At the 5 rows of Hogwarts-esque table, the guests sat. Dressed in their Sunday best, they murmured about how the black, maroon and gold theme resembled that of a palace . They were,undeniably, flattered to be invited to an event of such a grandeur . The room, roughly the size of a football field, housed everyone . Not even one name on the list was left out. In fact, months prior to the feast, she went all out to arrange transport for those from other continents who were constrained financially. It was important to her that everyone she ever knew in her lifetime to be there. Same place, same time.


Then the food was served. The waiters served elegantly in a uniformly white mask .

"DIG IN!" , rang a voice through an intercom . It was, unmistakably, hers.

 Yet nobody found it unsuspecting that she had not made an appearance yet , from the two hours it took everyone to show up and be seated to the time the food actually arrived. They were too distracted by their hunger. At once, their pupils dilated in excitement. It was indeed, a feast fit for a king. With an array of seafood, fresh vegetables, different styles of chicken--baked, stir fried, drenched in sauce, different styles of pastries, curries, and desserts all presented at once.

10 minutes in, it was clear that some guests were experiencing discomfort. More than ten people complained of a sudden tingling sensation stemming from their fingers and toes. Around this point she makes an entrance. And what an entrance it was. In a body con maroon velvet dress, she walked down the staircase to greet everyone, responded with nothing less than a roaring applause and cheers. Half of those present had not seen her in years. The other half who saw her a little more frequently recalled how she had fallen completely below the radar just some months back, withdrawing from all forms of social media and how she had stopped showing up to work. She wore a smirk on her face, as she noticed the confused looks on everyone and watched some guests visibly turn red and sweat. Then, the itching began.

"Just as I thought." the voice rang on the intercom again.

By then, the itching morphed into something worse, --a choking sensation. At this point, some were already on the floor, gripping onto the carpet for dear life. One by one, those who were affected breathed their last breaths. The unaffected ones were too scared to move. They looked at her, startled with how unaffected she was, observing the horrendous chain of events unfolding before her. It was clear that the ambiance had shifted to one of pure panic and terror.

Standing there, she took a couple of seconds before she uttered, in an unbecoming monotone; "There, done and dusted."

With only three days left to live, and millions accumulated in wealth, everything was going according to plan. They had to feel her power, her wrath and, (pardon the pun), a taste of their own medicine.

 Her obsession with knowing who was what , the amount of times she was abandoned by the same people who she imagined would never give up on her-- coupled with her discovery of the short span of time she had to be alive drove her to lunatic ends. The plan had to be completely eradicated of suspicion, and required a mini break from the world. Upon learning of her terminal illness, she worked closely with a team of scientists to concoct a lethal solution which would  kill anyone who was two-faced, spoke ill of her, backstabbing and secretly hated the sight of her. Sure, there were some who she did not expect to see, get affected. But at least now she knew. She knew, and she was content.

..."What are they going to do, kill me?" 





Monday, May 29, 2017

Existential milestone.

For the longest time, my 'mission statement' was to do my parents proud. And I would like to think, to this day, that's what I've managed to do by maintaining my grades to the best of my abilities. But over time I realised, if that comes at the expense of my mental health, I need to sit down and evaluate if it is worth it. Because if I am being honest, my parents never put pressure on me to succeed. It was just my persistence on improving my life's circumstances, and keeping up to some 'brand' I've managed to create  (i.e bold, opinionated, eccentric, cat lady who kept her grades in check) that drove me to the brink of decay.

So that's what coming to Aber was about. Telling myself sometimes it's okay to be less than perfect. And actually believing it. Loving myself. Learning to find a passion and interest which does not revolve around some grade. To learn how to be street smart and adapt from difficult circumstances--not just sit down in shock and wallow in self pity. By learning to travel and opening my mind to the different ways which people live, think, and have different standards of right and wrong, this place has arguably *foofed* some new life into me.

Of all the great things my parents have done for me, giving me an overseas education is what I am most grateful for. I can say with deeper conviction that the law field is where my true passion lies. Today, I can say that I am proud of all I've done for myself. Regardless if it fascinates anyone else. I can say that me, little-miss-play-by-the-rules , did things I did not think I would do, lived life so outside the constraints of a plan, gained weight I worked so hard to lose in the past, .... and survived.

You cannot put a price on something like that.
 It's just a feeling of accomplishment.
 Something like an existential milestone. 

Monday, May 22, 2017

Fake people .

"Look. I don't like you and I don't want to pretend to smile at you or be happy to see you". 
Said nobody ever.

Instead, the more preferred course of action would be to fake. In the name of being 'civil'. It's a pretty clear cut situation.

You do not like someone's instagram profile because they are too self-absorbed, you stop following them! Not subject yourself to further annoyance every time something is posted then laugh about them.

You don't like someone's voice or music? You just stop playing the video! not make an effort to watch the entire thing, intentionally diss and discredit every compliment they receive , or show it around and laugh about it.

You don't like what someone did to you? You tell THEM! instead of the ten other people who did not even know what the matter is, in order to get their vote on your side to support your bigoted opinion and validate it as being right without hearing two sides of the story.

You don't like what someone is wearing because it is too revealing or outrageous by your standards? well plot twist , the clothes are not on YOU ! :) you would not be able to pull it off half as good anyway.

But no. 

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Monophobia

Monophobia is the fear of being alone. If I had to dissect what exactly is terrifying about it I can't put my finger on it. Is it something I attribute to being the youngest child and needing to feel heard/important/be checked up on constantly because that is how it always just was? It's not a one way street because I always give that to people. But I've learned that there are more people out there who are not wired that way. It does not make them bad. In fact, my presence in their life is refreshing because nobody has taken that much time to put their well being above anything. However, even though I wanted to deny it at first--doing all of that makes me want to receive a little in return. 

It's not like I never had it. There were people who would go above and beyond for me. What did I do about it? I took it for granted. I did not stop to think that the kindness was a conscious CHOICE made by people even when they did not have to. I did not open my eyes to how difficult I could be especially when I get into a condescending mode to win an argument which I should have let it slip by. Or make them make decisions for me because of how indecisive I can get, even for the smallest or most annoying things. Or how I would call them up mid-anxiety attack to just bring me back to the verge of normalcy.

But sometimes, even when I throw tantrums and want more than anything for someone to be there ( Not just anybody because I am picky about who I connect with--the list is rather short) it hurts when I can sense that the other person does not even want to be there. The hurt is so immense, that suddenly dealing with the monophobia is not an unattractive option. When interactions have to be forced, when you can read dissatisfied or bored expressions, when you start hearing less about their day, when suddenly they get busy constantly -- coincidentally at the time when you are falling apart and just need to be in the presence of someone or something which feels safe.

You do not want to be selfish and ASK for them to be there against their own free will but you NEED someone genuine to just hug, smile at, say the first thing running on the top of your mind, have meals with-- and this need is magnified when your own "home" feels anything but. So is this called being emotionally dependent? Maybe. But maybe , just maybe , the world needs people like me because what world would it be if everyone turned stone cold as a defence mechanism to not get hurt by people's actions. Perhaps this is just the downsides which come with all the love and entertainment , lol.