What do you do when you get ‘angry’?
When it makes your blood pressure rise, your mind goes blank and you don’t know what you will do next? Whatever the cause of it is- whether it is a reaction to unpleasant words, a false accusation, when people don’t treat you the way you think you should be treated, when things do not go as you want to…I want to know – how will you react to it? What do you say? What emotions do you allow to show through your face?
Will you leave the room, or stand your ground and shout the other person down? Or will you just keep quiet and quietly boil inside, letting your anger collect until, oh I don’t know, until it all explodes one day? Or will you keep a diplomatic silence and play up to your hypocritical side later by grumbling about it to other people?
Yes, it all depends on the situation at that moment as well as the other person or people you are facing. If it’s somebody not worth getting mad at, then I would preferably just keep quiet and let things boil over. Because you are not worth a drop of saliva or a calorie of energy to argue some sense into.
Not to say that I don’t get into crazy shouting arguments with people whom I don’t care for; some of them are just so crazily annoying and senseless that what I want to do is take a hard brick and knock you senseless. Yes, I have felt this kind of anger before, until I really want to hurt, to kill. To make you non-existent therefore rendering my life a little better, just to rid the world of another pest.
I don’t know, I’ve never really felt sorry for feeling like that before. Even after my anger abates, I never regretted wanting to hurt the other person. Even with all my niceties and compassion (for starving poor people and those who are in abused families etc), when my anger is unjustly provoked (or so I feel), I just can’t be brought to sense. Needless to say that I don’t and won’t care about what others would think about me at that moment, or that their perspective of me would immediately change for the worst, once they see me like that, me forgetting whatever it is that is humane and compassionate when I am ‘angered’.
So many things cause me to go into ‘anger’. Some that you might see some sense and justification to why it made me feel that way, and some that you might frown at me for. For being so immature and easily influenced? And why do we wear our hearts on our sleeves anyway?
Just so that someone might actually hear our cry, and reach out a helping hand.
…or not? Sometimes we just want to fret out loud. Whether other people really read or listen, whether they really care, whether they remember it or not…it doesn’t matter. Just as long there is the impression of you not being alone in the world.
Fighting for a lost cause? So you better…not bother?
These days I have been getting angry so often, I want to literally scream out loud. Having had almost zero parental control or clampdown, a sudden transition back to being somebody’s ‘child’ is almost…heart-breaking!
No longer being able to do everything without having to report to somebody, without giving reasons to why I am going out now, choosing what I want to eat, when to sleep, wake, wash my clothes, laze around the couch when I’m supposed to practice the piano… I realised that it is going to be very hard for me to go back being somebody’s child. To being controlled (however little it is), to being told what to do, to have to give reasons to why I’m doing this, this and this... my sense of freedom has been so utterly complete these last few weeks without my parents, that I don’t think I can ever go back to before.
I think I can even go out and live on my own already. If not for the fact that I still have to depend on my parents’ money, I would have, ages ago.
Very harsh and utterly ungrateful-sounding, it is true, but there it is.
I know, I know, a lot of people have gone out to live on their own by the time that they are 18 or 19 or whatsoever. But sometimes when I look around me and see my friends or cousins that are still living in with their parents, and they are…not young? Then it makes me think that I still have a long way to go. That I am not old enough to take care of myself.
But the truth is that, if not for monetary reasons, I would have left. Long ago!
Not that I am being mistreated, on the contrary. I think it is only because I am not one to be controlled, to be told what to do. I actually hate it when people try to control me, or constantly lay down rules and regulations to follow. (Think me as a person who assumes that she knows best, and that the world would be nice enough to wait for me to catch up whenever I fall.)
Which is why I hated being a prefect SO MUCH especially during my form 4 and form 5 years, when the regulations were more strictly enforced. I hated my life so much then; it caused me no ends of trouble.
Why oh why did I not apply to be a librarian instead, I asked myself so much. I hated having to come in to school 20 minutes earlier than everyone else, that I had to pin my baju kurung neatly, that my hair could only be in one aunty ponytail-style, that my nails had to be checked. That we (normal) prefects (the specially treated ones were the ones who were in the ‘best’ class and therefore were automatically rendered ‘smart’ enough to be trusted with position. Oh yes I do not look up to YOU still, believe me. Respect has to be earned, not be presented in a little ribbon-wrapped gift box.) had to succumb to routine checks which always made me fear of something that I might have done wrongly or that somebody had gone behind my back to complain of something un-prefectly that I might have done.
Oh my freaking goodness *sudden realization, choir of angels go oohhhhh!*, I really REALLY hated being a prefect! Yes, I really did! If I had to go on about this, it would take me forever, so perhaps I’ll just keep the rest for another day. (By the way, if you think I was talking about you, fret not. Who I really meant it for, I seriously doubt that they read this blog anyway. If you do, then I really still don’t care.) (Whoa I feel really mean tonight, I’m sorry!)
Not to say that being a prefect did not have its advantages. At one point, it was even the glamour status in school (in my POV lah).
It’s just that in retrospect, I would very much rather be a librarian. Or even the PRS. At least my life would not be one big junk of fear and worry, made up of rules, regulations and more stupid rules! (Think of the one regarding the senseless ban of use of hair bands other than black, white or dark blue – which could only be made up by the dumbest idiot in the whole wide world - sorry, no censor -, who only made this rule up to make him/her seem like he/she is doing something and not just sitting there twiddling their thumbs. Like, yeah, our intellectual ability would decrease into a negative 500 just because I wore a pink hair band to school. Or that the boy sitting next to me would be terpikat with my purple hair clip and therefore make me pregnant then we would both fail school and be failures the rest of our lives. Seriously!).
[I’m sorry for all the ramblings, it’s just that I feel really strongly towards our education system (or rather, the imposed school rules) and would really strive hard with all my abilities to change it for the better of our nation, if given an opportunity. (There, don’t I sound like a politician?)]
ANYWAY, back to my original issue (yes I have that unfortunate ability to violently swerve out of topic), I think there is not much to say. Only that in these few days, I have realised that things can never be the same.
I will never be the same ‘child’ you left behind, when you left for another state. I do not want to have to depend on another person again. I do not want to have to give reasons for what I want to do.
And knowing that this is how I truly feel, it is actually quite an emotionally-charged awareness. To know that you are not a child anymore. Rather, someone with responsibilities.
(In a sick way, perhaps me being a prefect in my highschool years did prepare me for mature adulthood. But please, don’t ever let it cross my mind again that those years did anything good for me. I hate it when I realise that the people or things I hate in disgust actually have a positive influence on me.)
I also realise that reading this post might actually change a little of your perspective towards me (as someone totally unorganized – this post has no real flow! - and whiny), but I have tried really hard to censor and put things as nicely as possible. Maybe some things just cannot be sugar-coated.
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