Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Mou... kikitakunai...And just as I thought I could finally break free, once again I've succumbed to my fears and pains.
I don't know what was wrong with me. Last Sunday, on my way back from church, I drove on the wrong lane. It was an inner lane that was meant to turn right, but I was going straight. So as I drove straight, to my horror, a car come from the left, turning right, and it knocked into the car.
I didn't know what to do. But I stopped by the side of the road, where a Chinese man, looking around his 40s, came out and started shouting at me. "Don't you know you're in the wrong lane??" He shouted.
"I'm sorry," I uttered. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry?! You see that man over there! He's my witness that you're wrong!" he cried, pointing to another Chinese man on a motorboke, who gave this 'You're-in-trouble' smile that troubled me deeply.
"You punya salah, saya dah tengok. Tak guna punya orang... Bodoh!" he said, keeping that smile.
I didn't know how to react. So I acted on instinct. "Look, I said I'm sorry! That doesn't mean you have to insult me!"
But the man turned his bike (in the opposite direction of traffic, mind) and cried out again, "Bodoh!" as he drove away on his bike.
I was at a lost. I turned to the man whom I had knocked his car, who's now scolding me with words that I couldn't register. All I knew was that he spoke them with anger, so I told him, "Please... please cam down."
"Calm down?!" he shouted back. "How am I supposed to calm down when I just got into an accident?!" And he took my license and started taking my particulars.
As I sat back in my car, a thousand thoughts rushed through my head. I should've taken his particulars. I should've done something more than just stand there stupid. But reality sinked in deep.
I got into another accident. And I'm in big trouble.
And that's when all hell broke loose for me.
I screamed in the car, "I'm wasting my parents money!!!!" and began to cry as I drove from the scene. Natasha, who was with me at that time, quickly told me to park at a safer side. Soon, a man came and because I was too distraught, she began to talk to him. They talked about insurance, whose fault was it, fixing the car, calling my dad... while I sat in the car, crying and crying.
When my dad came, it was not easy for me to face him. But he merely instructed me to get into his car. It was only when I got home did I really get lectured by my mom.
But I dare not listen, and soon began to scream at her. I ran into my room, slammed the door, took off my shoes (yes, I ran into the house with my shoes still on), threw it against the wall, grabbed my scissors... and started slashing away.
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I cried as I cut and cut and cut. I wasn't thinking straight... so when I started to see blood did I pause. But soon I was back into cutting as thoughts of the accident filled my mind and how I've messed up again.
Mom and dad soon came into my room, telling me to get out. I refused and screamed at them to leave me alone. They then said they'd had enough of me running away from my responsibilities but I screamed at them to leave me alone. Mom soon began to pull me and dad was shouting that I was going too far.
I screamed at them harder to let me go, to leave me alone. I was crying so hard, I could barely see. My hair was all over the place. Soon my mom had to hit me to subdue me. And I broke unto the floor crying. "Stop it!" my mom cried. "Stop it!"
"Let me go..." I moaned. "I want to die..."
At these words, my mom laughed. "Stop this, Michelle, you're getting so goddamn irritating."
"Michelle, listen to me," my dad said, "You should be glad that nothing serious happened. Your sister could've died, do you know that?"
Instead of feeling better, I thought of how close I was to killing my sister. I thought of my mom's words. Then I thought of those painkillers that was on my study table. The ones that I use whenever I had migraines.
I thought of swallowing all of them whole.
My mom was still holding on to me. "Please... let me go... I want to die... I can't... I can't..." I wanted my mom to let me go, so I can reach for those pills. Leave me alone so that I could swallow them in hopes that the pain would go away.
But my mom did not let me go. I was getting hysterical, and it wasn't until my screams turned into sobs, did my mom let me go. I felt sick. I wanted to puke out everything inside me. My eyes ached. And all that was swirling in my mind were those pills and scissors.
I fell asleep after that. And when I woke up, I was in a state of shock. 'What happened to me... what have I done... how can I face my parents?' But I had nothing to fear. Cause now my parents won't look at me straight in the eye.
I was in no mood in celebrating my birthday. It rushed by me so quickly. I hid behind smiles, I laughed like that was the only thing I knew. But I was hiding the pain deep inside. I ignored it. No one cares, not even my parents... so why should I?
It was Afham that got me to open up. He told me that he had this dream that I was committing suicide and that's when I broke down again. With tears that hurt as they came. And I told him everything that happened.
I want to say thank you to Afham for being so patient with me. If it weren't for you, I think the pain might've doubled because... being who I am... I would've kept the pain inside like I always do. Thank you for your concern, thank you for understanding. Thank you, Afham. Thank you.
Yesterday, which was my birthday. I was clouded with uncertainty. My parents still refuse to look at me in the eye. My mom now speaks with me sarcastically. "Have you calmed down now?" she asked when I came back from college yesterday. My dad ignores me.
My friends from Lifeline then invited me out to celebrate at Starbucks. I told them about the accident, but I did not have the heart to tell them about how hysterical I was and that I was close to commiting suicide.
But as if God was trying to tell me something, for my birthday present (my first birthday present... >.<) they gave me a book entitled "The Purpose of Life".
Shocked as I was, I looked at the book with a sad smile and thanked them. After a while, I wanted to go home. And when I did, I called Mel (whom I somewhat mentioned that I had something to tell her) and poured out all my feelings to her.
I'd also like to thank Mel for being so patient with me. And most of all, your concern for me touched me deeply Mel. I never knew I meant so much to you... and for a moment, it gave me hope.
I'm still dealing with this problem. In which I've identified as 'Low Self-Esteem' (which incidentally was being taught in Moral Studies). I still don't know what's wrong with me, why'd this happen and all that, but I'm trying my best. God put me through this for a reason... at least, that's what I believe. And as each day passes, I struggle more and more to understand why did all of this happen to me, and where do I go from here... now that everything, my meaning to live, my dreams... have all crashed down in front of me... by my own bare hands.
I still fear tomorrow. But pray that I will have the strength to face each day as it comes. I don't want to die... but I'm losing my will to live.
I, in turn, will pray that you'll never have to experience the pain that I've gone through.
Take care and God bless. |
