I was watching “Stuck in Love” the other day, I would not recommend it unless you are like totally emotional (like on your period) and a hopeless sob like me. I quite liked it cause I related to some of the issues, hating your mum, wanting to be a writer… and also…. how I have not experienced life enough.
Some people look at me with my full make-up on and my japanese-styled clothes and go, “Oh, you must be a party girl”, “Total wild child here”, “How many boys have you snogged?”… And the truth is .. I’m just a goodie-two-shoes nerd who just happened to like some … “goth”? “dark”? things. I’ve been to a club twice, I’m sadly allergic to alcohol and smoke makes me cough.
I grew up in life never being in detention more than once (unless the whole class was ordered to by the teacher, so that doesn’t count) and that one time was probably because I forgot to bring my textbook to school.
When I was in primary school, we had a demerit point system where if you misbehave, you will gain 1 demerit point. Once you “collected” a grand total of 5 points, you will be in a lot of trouble. What trouble that is, I don’t really know. I never had a demerit point throughout my school years. I was always afraid of being bad.
Being “bad” was such a taboo thing, since it was drilled into my brain (courtesy of my primary school teachers) that you will suffer dire consequences. I think back now and the main reason why I strived so bloody hard to being “good” was because I wanted to please my parents so desperately.
Parents who viewed me as the black sheep of the family, who never wanted a girl, who never expected a second child. I was a sad accidental baby they had, unlike the golden child of the family: my elder brother. Who was the perfect child, scoring good grades and never getting into trouble. I had to strive to be better than him, or even on the same level as him just to get my parents’ approval.
I think back now and feel sorry about my childhood because I wasn’t daring enough. I was the sort of wallflower introvert and I hung out with people that was slightly… quieter. I was happy and in my comfort zone, I didn’t bother to go out of my way to make other friends. I was happy with the company I had.
Sometimes I feel embarrassed to admit that I’m not the ohsodaring person people think I am. It was awkward for me, talking to friends younger than me and who looked up to me as an elder sister, when they were talking about their bedroom activities because I had none to share, nothing to advise.
I think back about the choices I’ve made, the paths I took and wonder if it’s worth it. Is it worth it to be be “good” all the time? Miss primp and proper? Just to get a slight nod from my parents?
In 2014, I hope that I can find the courage to be more daring and adventurous because it is certain to me now, that I would never live up to my parents’ expectations of me, and any other effort on my part is such a waste of time. Waste of my life. I want to live a life that when I’m old and wrinkly, I can look back and feel appeased that I have stories to tell and experiences to share.