#creativehail

The other day, a Twitter mutual tweeted on whether if we’d ever think back of the past, of old best buddies and connections, and how are they at the moment. I didn’t ponder too much, because to me, I am still keeping in touch with the people that mattered from the past...

... But today, I remember you three, and I pondered about your lives; I remember seeing one of you, but you changed so much. The other, we tried keeping in touch, but you disappeared from social media. The last went MIA after primary school ‘til today...

In the past, we were quirky and talked of fantasies and magic. We were kids of different groups, but bond under the love for novels. Today, I wondered if you guys still keep that magic in your hearts. Or have you grew up, thriving under societal expectations and demands? Perhaps you have married, started a family, and are focused on nurturing the next generation? 

Sometimes, there is that odd feeling of being stuck in time. Where everyone is progressing towards life, and I am not. In fact, it felt like I’m walking backwards instead. Perhaps that is why I dislike gatherings and reconnecting with others; other than not liking big groups and noises, I dislike seeing changes and feeling that I have never changed much. I dislike reminiscing the past with people who were not close to me to begin with, or rather, so-called best high school memories that people tend to cherish were nothing much to me.

However, if there’s one thing I missed, it’s the courage to be creative... because writing feels so hard these days. It had been a difficult puzzle to solve: is it the busyness of life? Have I lost interest and “grew up”? Is it just procrastination? Or unnecessary pressure I’d exerted on myself? Putting words down here felt like fighting over a choked grip around my neck, and when the words are out, it just felt wrong, like it shouldn’t exist (but it should, it’s okay, everything’s okay, just take baby steps, says the rational part of the brain).

Perhaps that’s why I thought of you guys. Because I remember those crappy stories that I’d written during my childhood-- a story that is ripped out of a game and thrown into a mixed pot of fav novel ideas/concepts, riddled with grammatical errors-- and I remembered showing to you guys, unabashedly. And now I wonder, where have my courage went? Since when did I became like this? Why is it so hard to speak up now, without worrying of burdening anyone, without feeling guilty or ashamed of sharing? Rationality dictates that there’s no need for sharing, that my problems have solutions (and lies mainly in me), and it’s minuscule compare to others; emotionally, though, I felt constipated. And perhaps my body and subconscious knows, because it sought out others even before I could register what’s happening. I felt both rejuvenated and empty, because while I felt better with company and connecting with others, I wasn’t able to articulate what’s bugging me. 

Is this why my fingers brought me back to this place? To this letter writing? Because I seemed to turn to this when I’m hitting rock bottom?

It’s so easy to offer comfort and consoling others sometimes, because I can feel and empathize their pain. Or perhaps I’m just offering comfort, because that’s what I wanted? And through helping others would be how I found my own salvation? Or perhaps I admire their courage to vocalize their pain, knowing that I’d never be that way, and that’s why I wanna help them. For vocalizing pain is like screaming for help, and I want to grab those hands and tell them that they’re not alone in their pain, that I’m here.

Do you guys have people you’d share your pain with? I hope so. I know one of you do, but for the two who disappeared from social medias, how’s life? How do you cope with sadness? Are you living the life you desire? Are you happy? (Are you still alive?)

Life will always be a work in progress. I know I’m a work in progress, but it’s terribly hard sometimes especially when one feels alone (except one is never “alone”, “alone” is a choice, one can always reach out, you can always reach out, you have reached out, says rationality). To have put these words here, maybe that’s the start of flipping those bad tables into something good. 

My first impression of you have always been someone extrovert and open, one who doesn’t hesitate to speak their mind. I would also hope that fatherhood would nurture your patience and maturity, but I understand that parenting is not easy, therefore I gave you more of a leeway to be selfish and let your emotions run among our group of friends. 

People reveal their true nature in trying times; through the high and low of our competition days, I was able to learn what kind of person you truly are. It’s not just me, the others do too, and we accepted you for who you are: an emotional, thickheaded person who would work so hard for his distant, seemingly impossible goals. You are a flawed human being, and that’s okay, because we are too.

There has always been a gap between you and the team; cultural, generational, language, the fact that you’re one of the few extroverts among our team of many introverts... Being Team Mom, I have always attempted to bridge that gap because I could understand the difference in culture; I am brought under strict, traditional Chinese culture teachings but have accepted the influence of Western culture. 

And so, here I am, writing this letter because I am somewhat baffled and confused in what went wrong. Something obviously did for you to avoid us like that, and I’m not buying your bullshit on being busy either. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out together, or at least I hope you’d be cooperative enough to do so later.

So, I’m approaching recent events with an analytical thought on both cultures, and later when we chat, I would have to translate these logic and rationality to emotions. What fun. 

So, let’s analyse the current situation then:

Issue 1: Communication and Openness

You, who have been surviving under traditional Chinese culture, carries the pride of a typical Asian man. This may or may not be why you’re not intending to admit your thoughts; emotions are weakness in our culture after all, even I’m guilty in hiding how I feel. However, I admit I’m disappointed because I expected more honesty from you because we’re friends, but this is me being hypocritical, considering how I’ve always put friends’ emotions first and share little about my own, only to be honest when I really, really need to. 

Nevertheless, I can see that you have climbed up and hard to prove yourself to others, which results in you gaining pride and confidence in what you have achieved. You’d also wanted to help others through your experience... except, your attempt to help and careless words doesn’t translate well especially to people who relies on data and treat words carefully. 

To most of us, the discussion that revolves around the difference in data is a familiar banter, one that we play with words in attempt to pursue the truth or share our personal thoughts/experience, then quietly agree to disagree if opinions are still different in the end; to you, though, it seems that the discussion was taken in a more personal manner, that the difference in opinions and not having your opinions agreed is a personal affront, one that makes you feel that your thoughts are not being valued. I’m sorry that you feel that way, and hope you would come to understand that there is nothing personal when it comes to discussions after our chat later tonight.

Issue 2: Difference between Introversion and Extroversion

There is also the difference of “introvert” and “extrovert” in Asian culture. Society has always favour the extrovert and charismatic ones; introversion has always been seen as a sign of weakness.

I especially recall what you’d once said, that you didn’t know about the existence of the words “introverts” and “extroverts”, you just categorized people as “sad” and “happy” instead. The difference in human comfort level must have left you dumbfound, after all, what do Chinese parents care about comfort levels? We never really have the choice under these strict upbringings, do we, because our parents wishes and words are always prioritized? That’s why it’s confounding to you that we actually care about comfort levels, and that is why I sometimes found my answers and some solace in Western culture. 

I understand that this issue may have caused a lot of misunderstanding and misconception due to the lack of understanding. However, I hope that you will understand that there is no right and wrong in this difference; it is just a matter of lifestyle preferences, and that it’s totally okay to be yourself with no judgment from us. Likewise, we appreciate our lifestyle to be respected with no judgment too. 

All in all, these are the only few possible things I could think of that may have caused misunderstandings. Of course, I’m not a goddess who can predict all, who knows what other things you may have thought of and what may have offended you. 

Nevertheless, I hope any misunderstandings may be cleared after we speak. If the difference in our thoughts may have hurt you, I apologize for it.

It’s strange; in usual circumstances, I would probably run away from this. Human interactions can be so tiring, especially when it comes to Chinese culture when the slightest actions can be judged. It’s especially tiring for me as it was imprinted in my mind that interacting with others means having to be my very best when, sometimes (or most of the time these days), I don’t feel that way. Most of the time, I just want seclusion. I just want to interact with others whom I can be myself, and even to the people I’m comfortable with, it can be hard at times... because my mind tend to put them on pedestals, and all I could think of was how shameful, how worthless my existence is-- that how undeserving of me to have them, to burden them with my existence.

And now, with this situation ongoing, I start to miss those that I have cut off contact with: a man who has provided me profound thoughts, whom this situation made me reflect on the way he carries himself in words-- carefully and thoughtfully; a woman whom I’d connected deeply in terms of what it takes to be true to oneself. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all, for it made me reach out to one of them.

Perhaps what makes it easier is knowing how human you are, which in turn makes it seemingly okay for me to be human, and therefore okay to translate this logic into emotions. 

Your question pesters me, most likely because I regret not replying to any of your questions and instead focus on protecting myself.

I know my current predicament is partially due to me being too presumptuous. I’m sorry, I’m not strong and I’m just... tired. Words, when it comes from my mouth, never felt right... which is why I tend to return to writing letters that would never be delivered to the intended recipient.

To verbalise it would have felt like a greater sin, for I know and understand the right answers that you elderlies want to hear, except this time I no longer craved to please. I have reached a breaking point of my life where I wanted to scream, to defy all rules that were expected to be followed, to close my eyes to all judgmental gazes, and just do what I want without feeling that my existence is a greatest mistake because I'm not exactly keen on following social norms, to stop feeling that my life is a burden to others. 

Every provocations, every lecture on filial piety and what-to-dos are an annoyance. No offense, I know you guys meant well, but it wasn’t what I needed at that time. I was tired of having to listen, hating how one-sided our current communication are because you wanted to know what’s going on and I don’t intend to share, feeling, knowing, that my words will be wrongly interpreted. Knowing that whatever that is out of my mouth will not be polite, will be snarky and laced with anger, will be aggressive and “rude to elderlies”. 

As usual, I chose silence.

So.

How about I try describing how I’ve been feeling these days? Considering that you won’t be reading this anyways?

To put it in simpler terms, time stopped for me. I was chained by past mistakes and cowardly choices, and was unable to see a glimmer of hope in my future. 

I was trapped in a mind cocoon of my own making, except it was... an odd cocoon. Unlike the past, I did not dwell in gaming (like most of you have assumed, surprising ain’t it?), I read voraciously. I read voraciously, and I am ashamed, because I wasn’t reading any so-called proper books written by prolific authors or dead writers of the past. No, I was reading Haikyuu, which somehow served as a balm to my current dismotivation. I juggled the manga with fanfiction. Tons of fanfiction of varying degree, ranging from trashy to masterpiece, from embarrassing trashy AUs to fluffy cinammon pieces.

At the same time, I was involved in a certain gaming group, but I kept my distance and observe them. I wasn’t in the mood to socialise. I’m tired of humans, and yet I craved for human contact. The role of an observer would be enough for me.

So, two things happened:

a) Long ago in AIESEC, there was an experiment my president did. He called up two members onto the stage and asked how many push-ups they would be willing to do. One said 20, the other said 30. Although the president told them to stop at the number they had given, both members ended up doing more 40 push-ups and stopped together. When asked why, both answered that it’s because the other person didn’t stop, and it made them want to do more until the other person stopped.

Moral of the story? Seeing others hard at work and making an effort can be motivating.

Why am I telling this story? Because those members in that darn group shone so brightly that it hurts. 

For them to work together in organizing an event for their beloved hobby and game, for some of the old peeps to revisit old hobbies and work on creating despite their jobs... Like a stubborn rock in the middle of a rushing river, bit by bit, I was swept into their passion. In wanting to help them, I tried recalling my experience in organizing events, which led to memories of my AIESEC experience, which led to the small positive vibes (and lingering regret)... bit by bit, I pushed out of the murkiness, shook off the cobwebs of overthinking and started to... think rationally.

Passion-- you mentioned that I lacked this in everything I do, that you don’t know what drives me. Of course you don’t, because unlike my elder brother, I have never wield passion as a weapon. After all, passion is impractical. Passion doesn’t bring money. Passion is my guilty pleasure, passion to me is something to protect even if it means hiding it from you guys... But if I’m not strong enough to verbalise and stand up for my passion, then maybe it isn’t a passion at all.

Except, this is fine, right? Because everyone in the group showed joint passion in what they are doing that made me felt, for once, that it’s okay to feel passionate about something. And even if I can’t allow my passion to carry me, that my passion may not be strong enough, what I can do is to assist them. To protect them. To help them.

I cannot believe in myself, but I can believe in others who believe in me. How very Toppa Gurren Lagann, eh?

In wanting to protect, I sense it--- a form of strength to trudge on with life, to continue towards the next chapter. 

b) Recent Haikyuu chapters have been intense. The Battle of the Trash Heap and a certain character’s growth have propelled me deep into the fandom.

Reading fanfiction was an addiction... and looking back, I wondered if the main reason I’d sought out for fanfiction was so that I could fill the void inside me with some form of... “feels”, because intense emotions of adoration for fictional characters are better than dealing with the fear and haze I’ve been feeling.

Few days ago, I stumbled across a multi-chaptered Fantasy AU. Stumbled, because I really can’t remember how the heck I found it; said pairing wasn’t even my usual pairing and it didn’t even have my favourite character. I don’t know what possessed me to read it.

... But I’m glad I did. It was written with so much care. The Fantasy aspect wasn’t overbearing, and the characters are very true to the spirit. There was a fine balance of intensity, sorrow and “feel good” vibes in it. It was a story that hit my emotional + reading needs, nourishes both my reading and writing soul, and reminded me of my love for Fantasy.

So, like a nosey reader, I explored the writer’s tumblr...

... and was greeted by what seemed like a safe haven of common sense and inspirational quotes. 

Sometimes, one can be so stuck by paranoia that they are entrenched by thoughts of how one’s existence is a failure due to not being like “everybody else”. Sometimes, one needed reminders even though said reminders sound like stupid common sense at that time.

At that moment, I was reminded that it’s okay to be myself. It’s okay to do what I want. It’s okay to read fanfiction even though they’re not published novels written by someone prolific or dead. It’s okay to maybe not master something but just do for the heck of it, then revisit it anytime you want to. 

The above sounded like something I would advise others. Now, if only I can remember those similar lessons myself.

(And later that day, I found another fic that made me feel understood, which reminded me of why I read-- to find ways to express myself)

The culmination of both events enabled time to... move again, even if it’s just a little bit. My mind is still hazy, my thoughts are still scattered... but bit by bit, I know I will head to the direction I want.

As such, I request for your patience again, because I’m sorry, I most likely will not be sharing what I want. I was taught, after all, to only share success stories.

It is strange, godmum. Often when I write this letter challenge, my heart is usually filled with doubts, conflicts and even a bit of self-hatred. And yet, this time, I feel a sense of calmness, of tranquillity.

The reason I am writing this letter is to encapsulate fond memories I have with you. If there is one thing I discovered while exploring my past written works and old ideas, it’s that I feel thankful of the notes I made, short happy entries that I’d written, and immortalisation of past events. And this time, while my memory is fresh, I want to remember you.

Your presence has always been a pleasant one. Even during the final days, every encounter was a heartwarming one. 

I remember the day you asked me to be your goddaughter. I remember how over-the-top and dramatic it was, so totally my favourite style:

You looked at me in a (softly) stern manner, gripped my hands and asked (in Mandarin) if it was true that I didn’t mind being your goddaughter.

I’d solemnly agreed (in Mandarin) that, yes, it was true.

Then you declared us godmum and goddaughter. You even confidently said that, being a goddaughter is receiving the luck of a godmother, and that you are confident you could bring happiness into my life.

(At that point, you probably had no idea that I was actually in a rather gloomy place myself, trapping in a self-made cage of dark thoughts.

At that point, I did not even know I would get more than I bargained for.)

As a symbol of our bond, you mentioned that you would give me an accessory (which turned out to be a pair of ruby earrings). As a symbol of our bond, I bent to my knees and offered you Dong Cong Cao as substitute to the tea ceremony.

(Mother agreed to this whole god-relationship fiasco just to make your final days happy, perhaps to create a distance to protect me from being hurt when we know that your days were numbered. It didn’t work; I knew you were serious, and I could only reciprocate that seriousness with all I have, cancer be damned.)

For an elderly woman with two sons, wanting to have a daughter is not a surprising notion. But what truly baffles me is that: out of all the wonderful other women out there, you would pick me. From you, I could feel that you’re not picking me just for the sake of getting a daughter, but you are picking me for... being me. And that is all that matters.

Every visitations, you often told me how it was worth it to have a goddaughter like me. And every visitations, somehow miraculously, you gave back bits and pieces of my lost self:

a) the interest to cook again, as evident on the chawanmushi I cooked on our final weekend. I... actually wanted to make pudding for you too, knowing that you loved the Tau Foo Fa that we bought. Perhaps I will make pudding, (quietly) in your memory.

b) the betterment of self. I was losing direction in this matter, but being by your side, your presence makes me want to strive harder to be a good person like you.

c) some form of self confidence, just by accepting who I am and making me comfortable to be myself. 

d) my lost writing soul. It’s an odd case, I remember starting to write again on the night before your demise, it was like overcoming a tough hurdle, and then writing just became easier (it wasn’t before, even though I wrote something in the past). It feels as if you’ve enabled me to write again.

You also gave me more than that:

a) inner peace - really helpful during work. I was pressured and a tad lost with work recently, but your passing just made me feel that there’s more to life than stressing over work... and tranquility encompasses my heart.

b) so many fond memories! Really remember the time when you wanted me to get you cheesecake on Mother’s Day so that we can share. Although we never did because you were admitted to the hospital then, we still managed to share a bowl of Tau Foo Fa together.

(I remember when you rejected your bowl of Tau Foo Fa yet agreed to share with me. You just took a little bit to your bowl because you were skeptical with the taste, because you thought this would be your typical Tau Foo Fa. It isn’t. You fell in love with it but didn’t want to trouble others and ask for more. I noticed, though, so I offered you my share. You kept making me eat more before allowing me to feed you the last of what I have. You kept saying having me as your goddaughter was the best thing you’ve ever done in your life.)

((Many of your friends would later revered you, would brag at the fact that they were praised by you. That you enjoyed being in their presence, that they are fashionable, that you admire them. But no one could brag how you bragged of me being your goddaughter, because as far as you remember, I was the only precious goddaughter and you’re just happy it stays that way. Hah!))

c) an extended family of supportive big brothers and big sisters. Again, I thought my connection with your family would end after your demise. I thought that, perhaps, you see our relationship as something of Name Only, of a temporary agreement. I was proven wrong again and again during your funeral, because it seems the people closest to you know I am your (god)daughter.

(Admittedly, I have cried four times after your passing.

The first time, I cried (quietly and unnoticed in my office) when received news of your passing. Not because I was sad that you left, no, bless your soul, you were released from mortal constraints and therefore relieved of pain, and I could not be happier for you. No, I cried because I hated how helpless I was, not being able to be by your side, not being able to do more when you were gone (because, they said, everything would be covered by your blood family, oh just what was our bond then?). 

It seems my concern was misplaced; I cried the second time when your sons adamantly made sure that I was called in front to pay my respects to you as part of your family. I was touched at the notion that they’d see me as family.

I cried the third time, when I was called in front of your coffin before burial, to stand by your sons and daughter-in-laws, because apparently our familial ties is real and THANK BUDDHA because that means I get to say my goodbyes, to chant sutras, to be near you for one last time time. Which is all I ever wanted.)

I miss you, godmum.

My elder brother described you as one who is “full of smiles, full of laughters”. That is how everyone remembers you. That is how I will always remember you.

You are always kind and true to others, a rare example of a person whom I can never detect any adult falsities. You, who can see the good in others and sang sincere praises of others...

(On the fourth time, I cried when your maid Umi shared her fondest memory of you: when she agreed to extend her contract, you were so delighted. She remembers your smile. She is happy and proud to have served you. In fact, I remembered her saying “Auntie, selamat berjalan! Selamat berjalan! (Safe trip! Safe trip!)” when we have one last view of you. Maids in general are either unhappy or take a master’s kindness for granted; this is one of the rare few times I’ve seen one so fond of her master, so fond of you.)

One can have many teachers in a lifetime, but let it be known that you are one such person that I’d strive to be. And I hope that, by writing this letter, I can remember the happiness and kindness you exhumed.

The reason why I picked letter 29 was because I found it apt and meaningful in many ways. I do have some fondness for multi-layered words.

After all, Fear still is (and has always been) my greatest obstacle and current downfall.

Remember when we had a discussion and I mentioned I was afraid? By trying to break down or analysed said fear, you asked something amongst the lines of “People feel fear because a) they fear the unknown or b) something is threatening them, so what are you afraid of?”

It’s funny that many claimed that I am smart, that I already know the answer to it (and most often the time when they said that, I realised later that I do). “I don’t know” is usually a defense mechanism that is used to buy time while my thoughts frantically tried to organised itself, this I know. But, I personally feel that if one is smart, one would have been able to verbalise the answer instead. And I could never verbalise answers to the hard questions, either because my thoughts were still messy, or that I don’t want to face the truth, or that I don’t want my answers to be treated as a “finalised version” (because they rarely are), or that it is pointless when I already know the reaction to those answers I give.

There are times it becomes so much harder to communicate with others, because people are unafraid of sharing. They shared, they boasted, they ranted, they talked… and one can learn many things about a person from their words, actions and body languages. I get to understand others, but rarely one does understand me because I rarely (to never) share unless being probed. And I am never comfortable, never felt safe when it comes to sharing. Because past experiences have taught me that it’s bad to be different, and I know I’m oddly different, that others may not be kind to accept. And while working is one of the good (and only) way (I know) to connect with others, it’s hard to do so when one effed up a lot. So, yes, I Fear.

Back to that Fear topic, you asked if something happened in the past that has affected me or made me that way. The words that came from my mouth was “I don’t think so”, but my heart and mind back then were teasing me, “Aha, there it is”. 

I admit, time and again, I have referenced This Past Problem as “past baggages” in this Tumblr of mine. Never have I told a soul on what really happened, but all I could say is it does… made for much of my negativity and odd behaviours for the past months (years). And I’m sorry to say, this won’t be the time I’ll admit it all. Not here, not in reality, not privately to you. And all I ask is for you to respect this, for we are entitled to our own secrets after all; just like you who slowly revealed and entrusted me with some of your secrets (and I do appreciate it), please allow me some time to get over it.

Which is, perhaps, why I chose to write this letter. Because these thoughts are heavy and gnawing, that I can’t brush them away. I have tried, but all it got me was many blank stares at the monitor and many work mistakes. I don’t expect this letter for you to be a Cure All, but perhaps it could lighten my burden and shed some light on what’s running in my mind.

Just a small warning, this letter may not be a straightforward one due to my thought process. As you often teased how my thoughts are like a spider webs, well, all I can say is take what I said as a grain of salt and don’t get too entangled by them.

On Saturday, when you lectured me on my mistakes and wrongdoings, I just felt a huge disparity in our communication and understanding with each other. On the bright side, something useful was imparted in the end. But 80% of the lecture in front was just… I really struggled to react that all I could do is to remain silent, because I know my reactions will be taken as something else that is probably way farther from the truth, and that our realities and cognition are different. The fact that my attempts to explain were taken as “twisting your words” is already face-palming enough, and it’s already hard enough for me to communicate to begin with (an irony, considering how people often said it’s my strong point). And it’s even sadder that I understand where you’re coming from, and how your background has mold you to be who you are now, that your harsh answers were answers people has given to you; if I were to give you the answers that people has given me, how much of an imbalance would I have caused in your heart, and how much more of a burden would I be putting on your shoulders aside from the current situation? No, adding more burdens on you (or others) is the last of my intentions, and perhaps it’s with those thoughts that I crumble. 

(And just for clarification: I don’t mind your lectures (it was a justified anger), nor do I mind you bringing up my past mistakes when you thought it’d hurt (because it doesn’t, not in the way you’d think at least), or whether you’re too fierce or harsh (I understand your personality and that you’re pressured). There are many things you theorised, but most of them feels so far from the truth that I just want to bang my head for being such a poor communicator.)

The other day, you mentioned you’ll be having a discussion with me to ask “What do I want”. As you already know, this is a question that’s been haunting me, bugging me. And for some weird reason, it seems to be a question that everyone seems to think I already know the answer to. Do I really? Nevertheless, knowing that you’re going to talk to me about this, and knowing that I won’t be able to articulate anything if you were to ask me this, I figured I’d have a head-start attempt on my deconstruction to save you the trouble.

So, why am I failing so bad at work? Like, what gives? \o/

I know that we’ve been through this quite a few times, and there are no dead horses we haven’t beat… but, you know, after reconnecting with a certain friend from afar and rediscovering my passion in creativity and astrology, I’d found the answer (not to say I have discovered it since I know it’s in there all this while, but I just found a way to express it) that hits me hardest: the crippling doubt of my abilities. I notice my screw ups are generally either from being too careless or too scared (with the latter reigning the most these days), and this… this is something I’m striving to overcome (but fail, again and again). As a Capricorn Rising (in which no doubt you’ll ask what the heck is that and what is your Rising, or you’re probably too confused at this point, ack, forgive my ramblings), it seems that I would eternally be extra harsh on myself, that while I have high dreams, my crippling fear of failure and doubts on my abilities would stop it until I regain some form balance in my mindset (which is, another thing I’m working on).

You asked why I pushed my most of my tasks to the end. That’s mostly because during that time, doubts gnawed at me. The paranoia of being wrong, being not good enough gnawed at me. And perhaps what frustrates me is, in my mind, I know what needs to be done and what to do. But my body cannot keep up, my body refuses to oblige. Fear claimed victory in my actions. 

And so, why did I do in the end? Because when the deadline neared or when things effed up, a sense of responsibility and obligation were enough to cover those fears. It became Do or Die, and that’s when I started doing without caring, without having to shoulder the burden of Fears. Which is a tad sad, for when I became comfortable to a task, it becomes too late… so really, the only way to overcome this is by doing it, this I know. Not to say there is no Fear, no, Fear has always been my companion when it comes to the work and many of the things I felt I’m not good enough. Yes, mindset and confidence problem, something I’m working to fix.

At this point, you’re probably asking “What the point of this letter? To complain about me or rant at me?”, or “are you saying you’re wanting to leave?” or perhaps you’re asking “How can I help?” like how you did when we ate lunch.

To answer your first question, it’s an attempt to share my perspective. You, who often and always shared yours, whom I rarely reciprocate with words: this is my perspective and thoughts, make of what you will. I don’t expect any action, I don’t expect you to fix my problems, but I just want you to understand. This is just half of what I’d wanted to say, the other half I have yet to find words for.

To answer your second question, no, I’m not leaving. Not yet, at least. It’s a sick irony, because I am stubbornly staying for the same reason I want to quit: I want to effin’ master what I cannot do even though I know I’m a bit of a dunderhead when it comes to accounting reports and numbers. Which is really stupid, because there are times I felt it a waste of time (like why work on my weaknesses instead of honing my strength?), but I still really, really just want to master and get good at accounting even though every teaching would trigger some form of blank out from information overload and sleepiness.

To answer your third question, well, to say I don’t really have an answer would be a lie, but to suggest it or say it out loud feels like an admit to defeat, an attempt to change you (which may be the last thing I want), and also against social norms. Because what I needed may not suit your leadership style, semi-high expectations and close-to-perfection tendencies, perhaps not even suitable in this highly-stressed environment. But actually, it boils down to, what I need, I may not deserve. And perhaps that’s why I’m afraid to share…?

Because what I (think I) need, is a reminder/reaffirmation that I’m progressing. But again, maybe I’m not progressing, so there’s not much reminder there. Or maybe you have, but all I could remember is my mistakes. And it’s so easy to lose focus when I felt that I am a nothing but a scum of a human being for always effing up. While the greatest affirmation is, of course, being capable of doing my task, but… when I’m harsh on myself, I guess I just want a reminder that, hey, I’m progressing, now remember these last steps to detailed. Because more often than not, when I start to doubt myself, all my knowledge crumbles. 

But perhaps, most importantly, I needed a reminder that there are people counting on me. Maybe it’s a Sun in Virgo thing (we, who love to serve), a Moon in Aquarius thing (we, who secretly likes being appreciated). Not the sort that would create pressure and high expectation, but… well, on the day when you snapped out of annoyance that I’m supposed to be your assistant accountant and therefore should be capable of making judgment and assisting you, I was… honestly surprised, because I thought I’ve already lost that position and chance, few months ago, after screwing up so much, and after your brother has entered the workplace. It just sparked something in me that is almost a reminisce of my confident, intelligent self, even if it’s but a short while.

To sum it up, all my problems can be broken down into one thing: Fear.

And the only thing to beat Fear is, really, by doing it.

It’s a very broad question that I don’t know where or how to start, because I’d written for a multitude of different reasons: to rant, to roleplay, to fangirl/express my thoughts on something, to share my views which may hopefully bring some new insights or positive influence... Perhaps I should say, every work of mine was born for a reason, may it be a challenge from others or for self-satisfaction and self-amusement or out of desperation because there’s simply no one I could fangirl to. For example, I am writing this letter to you because a) I miss you, b) after a break, I am ready to arrange my thoughts and tackle your questions properly, and c) it’s in a “fill the gap” entry for things I couldn’t express verbally earlier today, things that I’d hoped to express here, which may form some clarity on what’s going on in the mess of my life AND perhaps provide you some answers of why I’d stop PMing you (in which I’m really, really sorry for being such a terrible friend and hope you didn’t think it’s your fault because it really, really isn’t).

So, I’ve been reflecting this “why” question on my Three Simple Pleasures: writing, reading and gaming. Why do I read? Why do I game? At this moment, I hate the current stressful lifestyle of my job, and so had hope to deconstruct myself in order to understand myself better, and in turn, be able to understand the bits and pieces that I like, and then find said bits and pieces in the current job and things that I hate. Perhaps a futile effort, but I’m working on it.

At the moment, I still can’t find the bits and pieces I like in my job. Maybe it just doesn’t exist, or maybe it’s an undiscovered gem, I don’t know. What I do know is that, I’d continue to stay because there are things to learn. I’m not talking about accounting skills, but more like personal/soft skills like time management and communicating with clients. Maybe payroll does interest me a little, but it isn’t fun whenever I screw up. And I’ve screwed up a lot in tons of different area these days... 

But let’s not stray into the negativity because it’s going to be a deep, endless pool.

Instead, let’s talk about what I’d discover!

If one were to ask why I love reading, I think my answer would be a typical “Oh I love to immerse myself in different worlds!” or “it’s a productive way to kill time! to de-stress! etc.”. That is not to say my answers are a lie, but... it just isn’t what I want to express. But then again, I’m never really good at expressing myself, and always feel extremely befuddled when people claimed I am. In fact, two people have said I expressed myself extremely well for the past week, and one of them even said I speak like an academician... hearing and remembering this never failed to send me into fits of giggle. But sidetracking aside, I think I love reading because I am never confident with my way of expression, and every new things I read increase my self-expression. For example, I would have odd feelings that do not know how and what to describe... and reading people describing exactly how I felt makes me feel... less lonely and weird. 

Perhaps it’s one of the reasons why I love talking to you, because you can re-word sentences that I do not have much confident on when we chatted, and turn it into something that is so natural and beautiful, like it’s normal and okay to feel that certain way, that I’m not odd at all.

But again, my reason to read is like my reason to write, meaning there are a multitude of reasons why I read. For example, I read fanfiction to scratch away the cravings that said game/book/anime had left me with, I read certain books because the synopsis resonated with something in me or because of a friend’s recommendation, and more recently, I read to either immerse myself as a form of de-stress, to find the balm that soothe some pain and troubles, or to gather some form of knowledge and courage. So, again, the answer I give is dependent to my current mood... but social awkwardness is most likely going to make me answer the same two sentences on two paragraphs above. Ah wells.

So, why do I game? This is perhaps a question I have mixed answers to, because this is still a question I ponder. The simple answer is “It’s fun”, to dig further, it’d be... actually, never mind, I realise all three of my so called Simple Pleasures carry certain similar themes, so the answer I’d give is most likely going to be similar with reading and writing. And I love a lot of different games due to many different reasons as well (ie. story and gameplay).

... But if there’s one answer that is different from the other two, it’s the... personalised experience I get when it comes to gaming? Games like Dragon Quest 9, Etrian Odyssey, Monster Hunter or Pokemon always fuel my creativity and imagination despite the silent heroes/characters. Perhaps, due to my sheltered lifestyle and my love for all things creative, being able to go on an adventure just lit this weird flame in me... >_>’

So, um...

Remember the last time we spoke, I told you that I just hate everything I’d written at that moment? That feeling was like a disease that actually managed to latch its arms on my other simple pleasures as well, except, fortunately, the other two were rescued on time, but I still need to pick up the pieces of my writing. To describe how I currently feel, it’s like I am trapped in a vortex, a vicious cycle. You see, my rationale and intuition has been warring these days (as it always does), which in turn affects my work performance and life’s views. 

There are many things that I lack, which in turn makes me want to work on fixing/improving my weaknesses, and yet the content and tasks fill me with so much abhorrence that I would turn away to the things I like instead, which in turn got nothing done... So in order to punish myself, or to force myself to go against this great adversity, my rationale had decided to forego the things I like (one of which includes talking to you) in order to focus on what needs to be done... 

The lack of escape, the harsh punishment I inflicted on myself, and the constant throes of failures led me to this current disastrous mess: loss of Self, confidence and direction. Oh, and P.S. I still got nothing done.

It was a moment I felt like withdrawing from the world, simply because I am ashamed of who I am. That I am undeserving of anything, everything good because I can’t even accomplish what I’d set out to do. It was the lowest of the low feeling, one that I’ve been struggling against with a mixture of success and failure. And each time I stop and breath, I can’t even see the light at the end of this tunnel.

While there is an option of climbing out of this tunnel of doom, there is also the fear of changes, of what to do next, of whether what I want would be accepted by people who are important to me. That is not to say these fears are new, but... it’s something I’d thought time and again, and perhaps what prompted me to stay and suffer.

But, well, this may be just the negativity speaking... Maybe it isn’t so bad, maybe I just need to put a little more effort to learn and whatnots... but recent mistakes may have made a dent on my confidence, which in turn led me to tons of “doubts”. Which, in turn, made me feel a little disgust at myself because am I attempting to run because I’m in a current stressful position? 

I’m tired of pondering questions that have no answers. Perhaps these “doubts” are but groundless fears, or perhaps it’s trying tell me something. For the past week, I’ve spoken to others for opinions and received plenty of alternative road maps. I’ve received two advices of similar nature: work on your strength instead of fixing your weaknesses (which in turn reminds me so much of competitive Pokemon battling, because we pick Pokemon for their strength and have a mishmash of team to cover each Pokemon’s weaknesses bla bla bla). 

I...

I’m sorry if you’re reading this, and I’m sorry if it worries you. I’ll honestly say, at this current moment, I’m not feeling too good, which in turn leads me to withdraw because I have this terrible habit of not wanting to burden others with my woes... and yet, ironically, what made me feel better was actually the contact with human beings, because I have an excellent friend who’s been trying to dig and pry and help, and knowing the limitations of her capability, introduce me to others who I can connect to, which in turn leads me to discover a little more about myself and help me vocalise my current thoughts. 

Things should hopefully be fine. The fact that I’m writing this, with a sense of honesty, should mean that I’m on the right track unless I’d somehow change my mind when I wake up tomorrow and become ashamed of what I’d written and delete this post, hah. 

I can say that, after a long time of doom and gloom, I can see a faint glimmer of hope. There are still, of course, plenty of fears and kinks to iron through... but I’d like to talk to you again someday, because I do miss chatting with you. It wasn’t a lie when I said chatting with you was a highlight of my time despite the timezone difference. So... I’ll most likely be throwing you a PM sometime this week, unless you’d somehow beat me to it.

And, perhaps, by talking to you, by slowly regaining my sense of Self, perhaps I can finally overcome those old baggages I have, which would in turn gain me some courage to do whatever I need and want from life.

I apologize in advance for writing this letter in a language you weren’t so well-versed in. I was hoping that, by being free of mortal constraints, perhaps you have transcended past language barriers as well. No one knows what afterlife would bring, but I hope it’s one where you’ve found respite.

... I miss you. 

I miss the unconditional love you provided, the fact that you would accept and let me be who I am. I miss your pampering, the sort of doting that wouldn’t belittle my intelligence. I miss the time spent together with you. I miss the wrinkly, soft hand that caresses my hair whenever you stayed over.

I...

To be honest, I started this letter in hopes to find respite from the negative emotions I’ve been feeling these days and, perhaps, find an answer to the many things that has been nagging my mind. Of the many letters I’ve done, this is perhaps the only one I could say it’s “sent”... and perhaps this is why it’s so hard to write, because the last thing I want to do now is to send you a letter filled with anger, sorrow and conflicted emotions, yet at the same time, to lie feels blasphemous.

I...

Popo, what is the meaning of filial piety? Yes, I know it’s a term coined by Confucius on respecting parents, elders and ancestors. It’s a deep-rooted culture among Asian families, evoked time and again to remind youths of the respect they owe to the people who nurture and raise them... But time and again, I want to dig deeper: I want to know what of abusive parents? Or miserable elders who just want everyone to feel the world of pain to fulfil the emptiness inside them? Of dishonourable, unjust ancestors? Forgive your foolish granddaughter, popo, but I like to think in multiple perspectives.

It’s just... these days, I just feel that the notion of filial piety is warped, that my emotions are being warped for the sake of this notion. These days, I feel that this notion is being thrown around carelessly just to assert dominance of parenthood and disregard conflicting opinions... I apologize, I’m just feeling exceptionally bitter because of a story shared, so disgusted at the implications yet unable to voice out because of the possibility of “divine retribution”... For the past few days, I’m filled with so much despair, bitterness and negativity that everything I used to enjoy lose a sense of delight, it scares me. 

I...

There is so much I want to express, but... come to think of it, I don’t really have to, do I? After all, you’d be able to see everything as a celestial being, right...? So perhaps you’ll understand the source of my insecurity and doubts. You understand why I can’t express it. You understand why I’m writing this. I just...

I miss your embrace, popo.

I miss you.

When dawn breaks, I will have to don my mask and play the part of a dutiful granddaughter again, to strive for the perfection that was expected of me.

But now, as night reigns, please allow me to go back in time as a child. To weep tears without feeling guilt. To comfort myself with your memories.

Rarely can anyone cause me continuous pain and irritation, so congratulations, you are one of the few people in my life that I learned to abhor.

As mentioned above, it’s rare for me to hate someone. I can be quite detached, and am careful to let those who enter my heart. I can handle anonymous trolls, random haters or immature people because, to me, they don’t matter. After I’m done with them, they are easily forgotten as I moved on with my life.

But you, you are a complex one. Perhaps it’s difficult for me to erase you completely because I considered you as a friend. As a friend, I have certain expectations (mainly simple stuff like mutual respect and loyalty). But you as a friend... you betrayed my trust and expectations too often. Yes, I understand everyone has flaws. We are humans after all. 

... But for some reason, your flaws just kept pricking at me. You, who tend to assert your thoughts and jumping into assumptions of what others are without truly understanding someone or something. You, who stubbornly stuck to your assumptions and thoughts without considering other opinions. You, who swiftly change your tune to whom you may respect or like. You, who quickly judge something without even trying. You, who tend to strongly speak your views and then do the opposite of them. You, who displayed a special sense of spoiled immaturity.

All in all, you are an epitome of specific flaws that I cannot tolerate from others: close-mindedness, stubbornness without reason, the lack assertiveness and self-awareness. A hypocrite in general. 

And yet, I wonder as I write this letter, why do I still continue to tolerate you. Time and again, I wonder if it’s actually worth it. Once a friend is a friend to me, it’s quite hard to let go... but to tolerate someone who may not even appreciate and merely utilise my existence, is it even worth it? 

Or, to go on a deeper level, why is it do I let myself be hurt by you again and again? Even after much rationalising I’ve done, your actions still irked me. Could it be that I still have not fully accept you for who you are? Or is it really just as simple as tolerance, acceptance and not something else in particular (like, ew, jealousy)? 

Yes, I’m well-aware that everyone has flaws. My other friends have flaws. I’m also well-aware that I accept them because I tend to work around their flaws subtly or just do my part as a friend by giving them the encouragement they need. But working around you is somewhat difficult, because you are a thorny one that the only way I can get into you is when you finally hit the wall hard enough to listen to someone’s opinion. At the same time, I am quite hesitant to offer much assistance because you are older than me. Not to say that you as an elder should know better, but my past experience with (and understanding on) ‘elderlies’ is that they never liked and/or are threatened by youngsters who help them. After all, what do we know? Our experience ain’t much, yo. Plus, you have a rather selective view and are more inclined to listen to those who you can relate to (may they be of same age or same background). I am sadly not one of them, and therefore could not help you despite wanting to help. Perhaps that’s why it irked me, because I can’t help a friend who needs help but wouldn’t allow me to help.

... So you see, when I befriend a person, I would observe enough to understand how their reactions typically are, what are their likes and dislikes. This is mainly because if I find a common interest with said friend, I would share specific joys and news I encountered, tailored to a friend’s liking. Yes, I share my love and passion of something to friends (or cousin) that I’m at least quite certain they would enjoy instead of randomly dumping stuff at people who may not care. After all, there is a certain joy to discussion and fangirl/fanboy-ing about something we love. And if I can’t find a close friend to share it, I have other outlets (Tumblr reblogs + internet community work wonders). In a sense, perhaps I admire you, who boldly declare what you love despite how your surroundings may not care... but at the same time, I loathed you, who rarely listens properly and easily change according to people’s tune, who bravely assumes and categorizes people to your fancy. 

But instead of dwelling on the negativity, perhaps I should focus on what I want out from this relationship. Again, my friendship criteria is quite simple. I don’t expect friends of 100% similar interest or traits. After all, no two humans are the same, and I do quite enjoy broadening my horizon. This means that, for example, even if I enjoy discussions and you sucked at discussions, that doesn’t mean I won’t consider you as a friend because, hey, I do have friends who sucked at communication too... but what they lacked, they prove it with actions. You don’t.

As mentioned before, you did many things that felt like a betrayal at times. 

... So why did I even bother?

... I guess, it is mostly compassion for you that I felt, and therefore tolerated you? Because your surrounding is a toxic one, and therefore I had hope that among the toxicity, you would find a safe place in me that you can be comfortable with. I want to help you, but I’m unsure how... and now, I’m unsure if I want to continue. Perhaps it’s me being vain enough to believe that I could elevate your pain and loneliness, only to find that I am not ready. Perhaps it is I who is not being the friend you need, the friend who relentlessly hound you until you spill or can be so blunt to a fault ‘til you spat and scratch. No, perhaps I should seek and appreciate those who would appreciate me as the patient listener. If there’s one thing I learn during my AIESEC days, it is that I actually make a good confidante to extroverts, because they are usually more open and vocal, and they just need someone to organize their thoughts. Introverts tend to be a tad difficult, but I have my own ways of providing moral support until they are comfortable to open themselves to me. You, however... I do not see us fit, and I am too tired to attempt anymore, nor would I think that you will ever be proactive enough.