Thursday, March 1, 2012
I don't think I have ever told anyone this before. Actually I might have, but only briefly and never in detail. I don't remember.
I remember Sec 1, sitting in the counselor's office, sent there yet again because I was deemed a "problematic student" (possibly with suicidal tendencies? hmmm). I was extremely skeptical and wary at first but grew to trust the counselor, but I think, never completely.
We took a break from my cryptic rants and I listened to her talk about her children instead. How they were from gifted schools and did everything (seemingly?) perfectly, how her son had a girlfriend and told her about it, how they eventually broke up and he told her he was sad but would still work hard for his O'levels.
As I listened, I couldn't believe there were people out there living lives so... Correctly. It was everything I craved and wanted, stability and peace in this realm of disorientation.
She went on about how I should choose carefully, take relationships seriously, and not do things I'd regret (this was a prelude to a sex talk, perhaps? LOLOL). She seemed pleased when I answered, "I know, I'll wait for the right person,"
"That's good!" she went, all chipper. And then there was a palpable silence in the air and she peered at me and realised that tears were threatening to spill out of my eyes. "What's wrong?" – She sounded calm.
What really was wrong, was how I couldn't believe there were people out there living their lives so happily, doing all the right things and being able to show for it, while I mucked around in my mostly-self-imposed gloom. I didn't think it was unfair – I hated myself for not being able to be like them, to be normal. That upset me the most... I wondered if I would ever fit in perfectly anywhere.
I didn't tell her what was wrong, it was too mortifying and cumbersome to put into words. I told her I would write about it ("It's easier for me to put it on paper") and pass it to her but I never did. In the end I felt this strange sense of attachment to her though, possibly because of the breakdown. I hate for people to see my weak/vulnerable side and this was... what, the first out of two times I ever cried in school? Of four years in Fuhua, that is.
My thoughts were in a whirl, inundating the capacity of my head. Despite the repeated admonishments I tried to force into my brain ("Stop it, stop crying", "Compose yourself and stop being a loser"), I couldn't stop crying.
Anyway I was cutting my jeans into shorts just now and trying to fray the edges, I don't know why I suddenly remembered this day so I thought I would write about it. Now I'm getting engrossed in the entries from my old private blog(s) LOL
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