Well not exactly. (I guess?)
Stories within stories, lessons learnt and values built up. What exactly are we working towards. Nothingness. Superficial, materialistic, jaw-dropping, cash flowing nothingness. The reality and practicality of this man eat man world sinks in and it seems important, desperate even- to find something to prove to everyone and to prove to oneself of your own self worth, that you end up hating what you've done in order to get up on top. It frightens me to think that maybe one day I might end up like one of those people, struggling to be on top, wanting the next job promotion and latest fastest car to flaunt my success. (note: success does not merely equals to wealth only) In less than 10 years I'm going to be one of those soul-less robots and I don't ever want to be that, but I might.
Reasons for doing so slowly unfold. To listen and to understand is something crucial and once you catch the point, you're caught in between. To be looked down upon and to have almost everyone and everything against you, you have nothing. Nothing built up slowly but so surely with that determination I admire so, till you've reached (nearly) to the top. But that sick, self obsessed part is still perpetually eating you alive. To claim everything you've never enjoyed and to prove to everyone that didn't believe in you- that's the price you pay.
"When I was younger, I had an uncle," he said "there was this one time I was with my other two cousins. One was better off than me and the other was actually poorer than me, so I guess that says something, right?"
His eyes were filled with old emotions that shouldn't have resurfaced because I knew they hurt. He was 7.
"Well. It didn't. My uncle gave out boxes of crayons to my cousins. Each one had one. I stood in line, patiently waiting for mine to be placed into my open hands," he shook his head and closed his eyes for a second, as though picturing himself back at that moment.
"He never gave it to me. I was in the line with my two cousins, they got the crayons but he never gave one to me. Another time, my mother once asked him if she could borrow money to pay off her husband's gambling loans. As a big brother, he should help his younger sister right? No. He said no!"
"That story wasn't about the crayons, nor was it about how angry I was on why I never got them," I nodded and waited for the punchline. I was on the edge, filled with empathy for my then 7 year old father that had to go through that humiliation at such a young age. "It was about how much he looked down on our family and could even think that because we are poor, I do not deserve the same as the other cousins. Not even a simple thing like crayons."
"To be looked down upon, especially by your own relatives is a shame that none of you have really ever went through. And to this day, I still remember I did not get those crayons because I was seen as poor. Incapable. Lousy. Not second class, but last class."
It's always painful to watch someone age.
But I'm too young for this and I'm too young to be this weary and terrified. What more, you? I'm too young I'm too young I'm too young. It never registers in my head that at 18, you're not supposed to be feeling these things until you're 30 or 40.
But it's always painful to watch someone you love age.
Especially after being away from home for close to 5 months, it seems as though everyone got older so quick. My dad's joints are hurting, he walks with a limp. My mum can't carry heavy bags anymore. They both get tired so easily. Josh is quickly growing taller and taller he can now swing his arm around my shoulder with such ease. I am shocked by the speed of all of this and my heart can't seem to take it. I am filled up with emotions and on the brink of cracking for God knows what reason.
Must be the stories and experiences I've heard lately.
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