Third day since I left hostel. Since I left KPTM. Feeling? ... No words.
Okay, fine, I admit; I'm still a little hesitant about leaving, leaving everything, my friend, the course. And now I'm here, blogging about it. I was just about to do some IT applications notes and then I realized, I have been wanting to blog for a while now. So.
Yeah... Where should I start?
I'm starting to feel edgy. I feel like lashing out at some random person. Some random thing. This morning I did some running, just to sweat it all out. It worked, to some extend. But now I'm starting to feel down again. I don't know; even if I try to cry, or something along the lines, the tears wouldn't come. I just can't get this out of my head. And I don't even know what 'this' is. Feelings are hard sometimes, aren't they?
By the way,
Mother has bought her Mazda2. *shrugs* Because Mazda3 is about RM10 grand more expensive, I guess that's why.
And all these thoughts about school and all, brought me back to my elementary days. My kindergarten years. The worst part about my childhood. I dreaded it so much, just thinking about it right now makes me feel like something is tearing my flesh apart, trying to get at my literal heart. Like that. Well, it wasn't that bad, I just had very bad experiences regarding them.
And you know what they say; experience is a good teacher.
It started like this. I wasn't such a bright little girl. I was shy and I had no possible idea how to make friends. So I was always by myself, and that's how I started talking to myself. Believing that somehow, there's another part of me. (FYI, I still believe so.) And then I became an outcast. I still remember how other kids would intentionally leave me behind and I couldn't take part in any of their games or activities. And I humbly accepted it. Surely because I was fine that way; nothing needed to change. Friends or not, I thought, I am getting through life. Even if it means all by myself.
But kindergarten wasn't easy, I must admit. Probably because I didn't have any friends. I had no getaway from the fact that my parents weren't always home. I was left with a babysitter; me, my big brother and sister. And I HATED it. So one day, I suppose, I had enough; my father was sending me to kindergarten, and I refused to go. I tried to run away, I struggled so hard; the teacher who tried to take me away became the victim of my biting. I bit her hand. Since that incident, I became more of an outcast. Nobody wanted to be friends with me any longer and it was all my fault.
I never realized this until I actually spelled it out. It was my fault, huh?
Then it was brought along to my elementary years. I started out fine, my grades were as best as an elementary kid could accomplish. But then I started to have a fit again and it all went down the drain. From being an outcast to being the freak who didn't like school. I didn't mind it; I spent most of my days there, anyhow. From 6am till 6pm. It was like a combined school and the only thing that kept me going through was the fact that someone, a 'friend', seemingly accepted me as her 'friend'. It didn't take me long after that to realize that, and it gave me the fit. And then I hated school. I was alone at home, I was an outcast at school. Other kids pointed and laughed at me. Sometimes I have nightmares about it and I wake up with tears streaming down my face. It didn't seem unfair to me at the time, just because I couldn't get along, they separated me. There was like a line between 'normal kids' and 'strange kids'.
One girl had my fate. Only she was far more worst. She was almost treated like an animal. I can still see the look on other people's faces, and I knew what they had thought. That she was horrid. It wasn't her fault; it was just that she just born with a skin condition that made her face... um, different. I don't want to say strange, because I was also in her place. Sometimes I'd meet her and I felt sorry towards her. But I knew that she wouldn't accept pity -- if I were in her place, I wouldn't either. But I felt some kind of serene feeling, because somewhere, someone close to me knew who I'd been feeling. Of course, I wasn't proud of it, it was just.. I don't know, relieving to some extent.
Then there was this teacher who was the nicest person in the whole wide world, it seemed. Even after lunch breaks (luxurious lunch meals, I'd say, since it's almost always my favourite -- tomato rice and honey chicken) she'd treat the whole class to some snacks. Keropok lekor, haha. When you're a little kid, anything that's a treat becomes good to you, even if it's not all that expensive and what not. I guess she wanted my classmates to like her. I did, anyways. But one time, everything was thrown away. The whole class was being noisy and I ran away to the back of the class, wishing I could scream the screams away. I still remember how I retreated to the back, holding my hands over my ears because the class was being too much. And the teacher, unfortunately, couldn't control them anymore. She ran out, tears streaming down her cheeks. I didn't dare look at her going away, because it'd be too much for me. All I know is, after that incident, I never saw her again. :'(
I changed school in fourth grade and I changed. I suppose I peeled off my old self because I was given the chance to start over. It was one of those bliss feelings you feel; that no one around you knows what happened in the past, and they know you as you are now, not as the person you used to be. And they couldn't judge you for it for they didn't know of all that happened. But the bliss feeling didn't really last for I was still in the dreaded religion school (that most kids go to after their morning school). Worst because I was always alone. Feelings distracted me and I wasn't a smart kid. I had to struggle with my grades there, and just when I was getting better, I started another fit. I used to go to school all by myself, on a bus. But my mother started sending me when I started not wanting to go to school. I'd sit at the back of the house with my hands around my knees. Eventually my parents found out. Of course, at that age, sympathy wasn't something I paid attention to. But sure, one time or another, I felt sorry for my parents. I was this kid who embarrassed them.
Bla bla bla, I just remember this man at the stationery store (Koperasi, now) who started acknowledging me. As far as I'm concerned, he was the only person who recognized my existence. And I'm always grateful for it, up until now.
But yeah, when I changed school, I thought everything was getting better. On my part, anyways, it did. I got two great best friends who were always by my side. Literally, too. And I was always in the middle when they'd start quarrelling about something silly, with both of them telling me to not talk to one another. I thought it was funny. I became a prefect, when I met Nuzul and my whole life changed. First guy to EVER talk to me. Ever. ..... Ever. Not even for a question. But... yeah, things are not always as you want them to be.
There was this boy in my class who was constantly bullied. (Before I ever became a prefect) I don't know if it was because he was black, or because he wasn't liked by the other boys. Not that all the boys despised him, I'm sure he had friends outside the classroom. ... Or not. He'd be thrown against the locker (we don't have lockers, just one that's placed in every classroom), kicked around and such and such. Just thinking about it now makes me cringe to no end. Nobody tried to save him and as far as I'm concerned, my teacher wasn't too... um, how do I say this? She just didn't care. And that crushed me. I hated seeing it, but I couldn't stop it. Reason being that, if I tried to stand up to him, he'd be beaten up worst. Imagine a girl standing up to a guy being beaten to death. How would that look like? Only he wasn't beaten to death, he was just constantly beaten. I was always surprised at how he never failed to show up at school everyday. If I were him, I'd just throw a fit and demand to be changed school. Or at least do SOMETHING. I mean, you're being kicked around like some trash. Doesn't that make you want to run away?
Duh... I think I've ranted a bit too much. Not that I expect anyone to read this, I just like to blog to get this out of my chest. (: It's hard with a diary -_-; also since mine is too full of crush crap and all that. And I just generally don't like writing with a pen. Some things I do, some things I don't. I always seem to remember the fact that my mother used to be mad at me for writing for my left hand. *shrugs*
I guess I'm ending it here.
Au revoir, moi cherie.