There is nobody to blame but you.
Sorry family. I’m sorry I’ve let you down. I messed up. I won’t be able to fulfill my promise.
What is the point of existing if all you do is to fail people around you?
What do I have to do to be heard? What do I have to do to be heard? What do I have to do to get some attention from you? What do I have to do to be heard? How many more times do we have to fight? How many more times do I have to raise my voice? What do I have to do to be heard?
The presentation is tomorrow, yet I’m feeling uneasy and nervous right now. AGH. Do not like this one bit
Instant noodles are beginning to replace rice as my staple meal. Mom and dad not gonna be happy about this.
I like making lists of stuff. They make me look like I’m an organized person. (Even when life is pretty much a mess…)
The best gift you gave me was acceptance. It still is.
I appreciate that so much. Thank you for being a part of my life.
Someone told me once that they wished to end their life when they reached 30. At that point of time, I did not understand why would anyone make such a statement. Right now, I sort of get why that person thought of such a thing. I wouldn’t want to live either if I had nothing to live for as I grow older.
I feel that the only strings pulling me back from falling over to the other side are held by my loved ones. The strings aren’t very thick though. I hope they don’t snap one day. I don’t have anything else to keep me safe from death.
I’m through. I can’t take anymore complaints or shitty stories about how bad your day was. My days don’t always go according to plan either. I have enough ridiculous shit to deal with as it is. I don’t need additional problems on my shoulders. You’re boring me. Enough is enough.
A few weeks ago, my dad’s friend asked me an odd question out of the blue. “Do you feel pressured being a child of a pastor?” I must say that the question took me by surprise and I wasn’t prepared to answer it at such a short notice. My dad present when the question was being asked, so I felt that I had to somehow answer this question wisely. Without wasting anymore time thinking too much, I had a goofy smile and gave a half-hearted response along the lines of “Oh, I used to feel the pressure when I was much younger. But now, I don’t really care anymore.” My dad’s friend then said, “Oh, good for you then. I read about a recent study on pastor’s kids. Apparently they feel a lot of pressure throughout their life and a huge percentage of them even end up leaving the church!”
At that point, I couldn’t smile anymore. I felt pain in my chest. All I could do was just try to ignore the further discussion that my dad and his friend was doing regarding that topic.
They don’t know. Nobody knows.
The realization hit me like a huge truck.
I have become part of a stereotype.
You know, this one.
My family doesn’t know that I haven’t been attending weekly church services for the past 3+ years. The only times I stepped foot in a church was whenever I was at home. It was really difficult to skip church at home. I don’t have the guts to tell them. More and more I feel that going to church is pointless.
I know I can’t blame anyone but myself. At the end of the day, nobody else is responsible for the things I have done in the past but myself. When I look back at my past today, I feel like I am really just a typical stereotype of a PK.
Being a kid was tough. Well, I had fun in school. My non-christian friends treated me like an ordinary kid. They played games with me and we’d do the craziest and silliest things. But church people and kids on the other hand… it’s difficult to summarize how they treated me. Some were really nice and kind. They make me feel loved. But there were also some which made me hate being my dad’s kid. It made me wish I was never born. It made me wish that I didn’t exist. Some days I felt that perhaps it was better if I were dead.
I’m not sure what it was. Perhaps it was the expectations of the people around you. “I’m sure you’re such a good girl, you wouldn’t do anything bad at all, right?” It sounded like a compliment when I was a small kid. But when I was a teen, it sounded more like a challenge. Yes. You read correctly. It felt like a taunt, and man, I was so eager to break out of that stupid “goody-two shoes PK” stereotype.
Interesting to note that in the process of disproving one stereotype I just ended up being another. Well fuck.
I had high expectations on myself too. I had this mentality that I must not let my dad down and I must not disappoint him. I tried my best to be obedient and a goof girl. I went to church every week without fail. I serve in the worship team. I loved to sing, so that wasn’t so hard. I became a cell leader and a worship leader in my youth fellowship. I tried my best to have regular daily quiet time and I prayed hard to God so that I could be led away from the temptations of masturbating and using swear words.
At times, I was angry at God. Why couldn’t I get rid of my addiction? And why does my parents fight? Why does dad make mum cry? He’s a minister for crying out loud, why is he so mean to mum? And my mum. Haha. She was always in her own bubble of silence, the only was you could reach out to her was by being angry. Maybe that’s why dad was always angry at home. More and more I hated home. The home I knew slowly turned into hell.
As my secondary school years were coming to an end, the question of where-are-you-going-to-pursue-your-tertiary-education became a staple in any conversation. At that point, I wasn’t sure of where I was going to end up studying. But I was set on one thing; I knew I can’t stand living in my own house any longer. Their fights were getting more frequent and all I could do was just lock myself in my room and pretend everything was going to be fine. Anywhere I went, I had to put on a brave face and a happy mask. ESPECIALLY in church. You wouldn’t want people to know the ugly truth about your family, right? Your dad’s a pastor, that can’t be right Jessie. Don’t make shit up.
I had nobody to turn to. Even the God that I prayed to every night felt very distant from me. There were nights where I contemplated on committing suicide. I don’t know. The weight on my teenage shoulders felt really heavy. The happy mask I had to put on everyday was suffocating me. Killing myself felt like the best option. But I was afraid of ending up in hell. But hey, I was already in hell anyway. Haha.
Anyway. I didn’t kill myself. But I chose to further my studies somewhere really far away from home. In other words, I chose to run away. It felt weird at first. And then it felt great. The freedom I had, I used it in many ways. Soon after, I started abusing it. I saw it as an opportunity to try out things that were bad and naughty. I was so desperate to prove to myself that I have my own identity I ended up doing all kinds of ridiculous things.
At first it felt awesome and fun. But after awhile I felt emptier than before. I also felt alone. Really alone. I was far away from my family and I was surrounded by strangers. I made really bad decisions. I’m glad I didn’t do drugs, but the activity that I did partake in surely put me at risk of contracting STDs or getting raped/murdered. Looking back at it now, all I can say was what I did was really stupid and selfish of me. I could’ve died.
Besides my stupid and dangerous “extra-curricular activities”, I went to church less and less too. Eventually, I stopped altogether. I felt like a bogus. I felt like a filthy person and I didn’t belong in a church. Now, I have another point of view to add. The church is full of fucking hypocrites. Just like me. But at least I don’t go around telling people how “holy” I am and how many bible verses I’ve memorized. I know for a fact that I am a sinner, and I don’t pretend to be otherwise.
If I was given the choice…
Would I have my life any other way? Would I want my teenage years to be changed? Would I be a good and holy PK instead of a promiscuous person?
I don’t think so.
Whatever that has happened has happened, and whatever that will happen will happen.
Right now, all I know is that deep in my heart, I love my family. They are far from perfect, but I don’t want to hold anything against them. I am thankful I was born in this family and I still have the opportunity to be a part of it. For them to find out about my lack of church attendance and doubts in Christian faith would break their heart, but hey, I’m only human. I can’t make everyone happy, can I?
Another fact that I know is that I have long left my previous promiscuous lifestyle. It’s been more than 4 years, and I am doing my best to keep it that way. I have a loving and supportive boyfriend, and he accepts me for who I am; flaws and all. He knows my story and he knows my past. Sometimes I still find it hard and unbelievable that he still loves me despite my shortcomings.
It’s been quite an adventure, but I am far from done. I look forward to more exciting things, and less stupid and irresponsible ones. I still have unresolved issues and emotional baggage. I still deal with depression from time to time. But I’m quite confident to say that my life is turning out to be okay, and there are times where I genuinely feel happy. I don’t need to put on my suffocating happy mask often anymore.
I don’t know why I typed all this. But since it’s such a huge chunk of text, it would be such a waste to delete it I suppose.
I used to think that breeding pokemons for shiny ones were a waste of effort and time.
I definitely proved myself wrong. Now, I have a more positive outlook on this time consuming activity. yes, I won’t deny the fact that it is very time consuming, but oh my. That feeling when you see a shiny pokemon hatch from its egg. I almost dropped my 3ds when I saw it happen yesterday night. I was close to giving up on getting myself a shiny Absol. After all, I was very close to hatching 100 eggs in total and I felt quite hopeless. But then I’ve heard stories of people having to hatch hundreds and hundreds of eggs just for that one coveted shiny pokemon. Agh.
Whilst hatching my 96th Absol egg, this happened:
At this point, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But wait. It wasn’t after all! I finally got my shiny Absol. Gosh. When it dawned upon me that I finally did it, I felt really excited. Way too excited for a 23 year old person. Hahaha. This was my first shiny pokemon after all. (Excluding the Reg Gyarados from Gen II…)
So what did I gain from this experience?
I’m out of things to say. Here’s more pointless pictures to end this post.
**after a few hours in I was really tempted to rename the boxes to “Box of A-holes”. Ah.
Next shiny breeding goal: A shiny Ponyta (Those pretty blue flames!!!).
Brain, please go to sleep. The train ride home was exhausting. So why don’t you wanna sleep? We can watch Hannibal after Easter service. Come on now, time to sleep.
I feel a sharp pain in my chest when I think of you.
I cannot smell you, nor can I see or touch you.
I do not feel your presence nearby.
Where are you when I need you most?
Where are you when I long for you?
Where are you when I call out your name?
It’s late; I can’t sleep and I miss you.
Please make it stop.