The truth is …

I take privileges for granted, abuse the kindness and waste my life at your expense.

Also …

I am already in pluvial water, ready to be a denizen of the deep.

And …

However, amicable, or mellow I may be, there is no doubt I am diabolical. Maybe even a little suicidal.

You see …

I worry about your sudden concern. Concern about my progress. It has always been the same, isn’t it? You never change. Since PSLE, Streaming, ‘O’s, Promos and now ‘A’s. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you care. In fact, it showed me that you have always been looking at me, even though you might not seem like it, especially since you work the weekend and left the weekdays empty. Whatever justifications you made as to why your weekdays are free, which I once cared, I shalln’t pursue but, regardless, it portrayed an envying insouciant life of yours.

That said, it might not be sudden at all. Your concern, I mean. Then again, it’s sudden, and particularly now, because I can no longer answer you while looking at you in the eye. I realised that as I get older I have lesser confidence and assurance in my answer.

I’d like to confess that the answers, which are ambiguous and seemingly arbitrary, are vindications of my guilt. The guilt of hubris and indolence.

I want to laugh at myself and maybe applaud my puny brain, which has this superb capability to inspire me to perform at subpar standards albeit countless attempts to stay positive. It’s hard to see motivation.

Motivation. What is it?

I’d like to indulge in and accept the mere fact that your concern should be an impetus for me to excel and not let you down. But I cannot will not.

The glaring blatant problem is that I know all these are happening. All these sudden conflicting changes. It’s like puberty just on the inside. But for some reason there is self-inertia. I recall Margaret Thatcher’s words on how what we think we become. Which leads me to the revelation that I am my own fault.

The goal now is to not conquer As but rather conquer myself. I’d wish for an extension so that I can focus on defeating my own inner demon, but time forbids, society forbids…

Here comes the twist, I may not be at fault in the first place. Putting down Asian ideals and picking up the Western ones, I see a need to incriminate you for being selfish and irresponsible, and refusing to push me further since you are one of the two who brings me life. I’m sure things would have worked out so much better since I have never been the recalcitrant sort.

I’d like to express my guilt. But I dare not see the sorrow beneath those furrows.

I see a storm coming. I happen to like storms. I like the sound of thunder, the glacial winds, the ferocious rain. I like it because it numbs me …


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