Wednesday, February 18, 2015 , 9:31 AM
My Hands Are Dancing; Writing, Typing
I feel like I want to write about my whole life here. So that other people can understand how I live my life, my petty 17-18 years of living. But, I can't. No one can seems to understand even if they read my full story. They won't imagine how it actually happens and the reasons why.
They will only read, not really into it. They won't understand how I can be so calm and then assume that I have a good life.
No, I don't have a good life. No one does. Some just appear to be better than the others or through their perspective, they see that other people's life is greener when it's not.
I enjoy writing because I love when people read it, even though the truth is, not many of them read my blog anyway.
But I still enjoy writing. And I enjoy reading other blogs. Preferably, personal blogs about their life because I want to know how they have been doing lately or how they have been feeling. I know I won't fully understand them or know them 100% but hearing and reading stories sometimes make me happy or sad.
I don't know if someone out there wants to be in my place. They say they want to but I don't think they fully understand my situation.
I mean, everything I wrote here, don't actually show the negative sides of things that happened to me because I don't like negativity. I wrote as positively possible so people don't assume me as a negative person that hate my life.
I love my life, even though it sucks. I do wish I can live someone's life everyday, one person a day just so I can understand what they feel and being in their shoes make me feel grateful to be me. This me; the left-handed, shy, quiet and sometimes pathetic person.
Okay, I probably understand that they hope to be like me, being the positive person, not actually want to be in this disastrous position I am in. Because I am positive they won't want to be where I am now.
Because why? Well, for starter, I don't have a dad anymore which is hard. As time went by, eventually I became stronger with the absence of a father figure.
I face countless high hopes that are always been put down on my shoulders. I've been called immature before so that's why I changed. Well, not change, just simply hiding it.
I dream a lot but I have fears that it won't work out like I want to. And those dreams are BIG. Extremely big. Not just some stupid dreams about the perfect husband or baby or houses.
You could say I'm patriotic. I love my country and I want Malaysia to be known by people outside. The burdens of having these big dreams are heavy.
I wish I didn't dream like that. But I do and I really, truly want it to happen.
Also, I have an allergy toward the thing or simply, creature that I love the most. Cats. Having the allergy makes me feel frustrated all the time.
Most people don't understand. I love animals waaaaaaaay too much. That's why I want to be a vet. A successful one.
Knowing about myself having that allergy made me cry, heartbroken and pathetic. Like, how can a vet be allergic to cats?
I've also dealt with countless deaths. Like my late dad, my late grandmother, my pets and the death that I remembered the most and still make me cry because I feel guilty is a kitten left to die by the shop owner because some dumb hoomans took the mother and only one of the babies. (There were 4 of them)
I still remember how that kitten, the one that captured my heart was lying flat on the concrete floor, not moving and people just walk past it even though they saw the orange furball.
How pathetic some hoomans are. They didn't even bothered picking the kitten up and put her/him aside. The furball was literally lying in the middle of the shop where the first thing a person that walk in would see.
I saw the furball and picked it up. My eyes were watering and I couldn't see a thing after a minute or two. Just tears blurring my eyes. I heard that the shop owner said some idiot hoomans took it's mother and only one of the kitten and left the other three starved to death.
The other two already died. The orange furball wasn't... yet. It was breathing but it looked lifeless. Like on the verge towards death. I was crying, sobbing while holding the kitten and searched for my mom, who was at the store next to the shop.
I met her halfway when she saw me crying with an almost lifeless kitten. I told her about it. She told me that it looked like it didn't have much hope.
But all I was thinking was to save the kitten's life. I dug in my school uniform's pocket and found money, enough to buy a carton of milk.
I mean, it's a kitten, barely reaching a month so I thought of giving the kitty milk. I paid for it, stuck the straw in and squeezing the carton with just enough force to push the milk out into it's mouth. I was still crying at that time, because why?
Because people told me numerous times that there was no hope for the kitty. And even the owner told me that.
All they said was "Takdir Allah". I mean, I know it is but then, what's the use of doctors available around us? So what if there's a person dying, (in this case the kitten) wouldn't it be the doctors' job to try and cure the person even though they know that the person has no hope whatsoever?
Then, if I can't save a kitten's life, or trying to save it, why would I want to be a vet? I should just work as a janitor then. That's much better than people telling me that I can't do shit about saving a life.
So, what happened after that was that I put the kitten down and cry a river while walking to our car. And I feel this heavy guilt of not saving it.
I cry while writing this story. It's a sad feeling, ya know when you can't do what you want and saving a little life.
And now, I live a life where I can't do things by my own. If someone says no, I will literally do what people say because I grew up to become like that.
But when I live by my own someday, I will do what I want, whenever I want. I want to own 100 cats. And I don't care because I never own a cat before. So yeah, end of my sad story.
I know they want to be as simple minded as I am. Not over thinking and stuff like that. But being a simple minded person is also hard. I face a lot of trouble because of it.
And I also over think, even if it's not all the time. I'm still a girl even if I have the stronger boy side.
I don't know why people want to be me. I mean, being positive and all is hard. People take granted of me and sometimes, I felt like I can't cry because people see me as a strong person.
So now, I live my life thinking that crying is a sign of weakness. For myself that is. I know it's not but I still hate crying.
The thing is, I'm a crybaby. But I hate crying. The struggle for myself to stop myself from crying is real and it's hard.
I sometimes curse in my head just so I stop crying.
I also have this huge ego, like an ego for winning. I cry or feel real disappointed for myself if I lose. And there are a few more things when it comes to my ego but I don't want to tell that part of the story.
In the end, people want to be me because to them, I'm positive but I'm like that because I have to. I struggle if I don't and then, I'll be real depressed and no one can help me.
I grew up being positive because bad things around me taught me to become stronger. Those humiliations, death, being pushed down and told not to do things. If I don't force myself to be this positive, I'll be ruined.
And I know I won't recover so it's better for me to be me and you to be you.