Every year, I come back from Australia to celebrate Christmas and Chinese New Year with my family.
Every year, I stumble upon old things: letters, school year books, photos, etc. They bring back so many memories. Some good, some bad.
This year, I opened some old drawers full of letters and old books I wrote with my friend, Shu En. The letters and cards made me laugh and sigh. There were many lovely ones from my Malaccan brothers, Jas and Wliem. There were some thoughtful ones from random friends around the country. There was a lovely graduation card from my parents.There were cutting ones from school mates who wrote letters to me to 'cut off" friendships. There was an excessive amount of letters from me and my god-siblings in school [We used to write to each other notes everyday].
My conclusion: I don't think I particularly liked high school. Not that I was always unhappy. I had many happy moments. But in general, I don't think highly of how many people around me behaved, and I think I was really silly as well.
I cared so excessively about whether people in the church youth group, and in my circle of friends accepted or liked me. Normal teenage angst I think. But it was often a source of deep pain.
My mom wonders why I often [up till even now] wrestle with issues my sisters never struggle with. Identity, belonging, ideals, dreams and their fulfillment, transcendence of existence etc. I don't know either. They matter to me. Always have. If I suppress them, that's where suicidal thoughts come in. I need to always confront them and sort them out.
Alien. Always felt slightly alien in school. In Chinese education, where everyone kept sneering at my 'western-ness'. My Chinese was never terrible. It was average. I was just really good at English. Being the only Christian in class and wondering what witness I had. Struggling to speak Hokkien to fit in with my colloquial volleyball mates and succeeding so well they thought it was weird when I spoke to them in any other language in school. They raised their eyebrows when I mentioned that I learnt ballet. Somehow, ballet and sport people never 'mixed'.
Alien. I was good at music and most people didn't recognize it. Fortunately my parents did. But mostly, in school and even in church, I felt down-trodden.
Alien. Always felt alien in this town with women squawking everywhere in Hokkien, with terrible-looking maggi-mee curls and tattooed eye-brows. My mom speaks Cantonese. She doesn't tattoo her eyebrows nor squawk. She taught us to love Pride and Prejudice.
Alien. In a family of loud, karaoke-loving aunties and uncles. I hate karaoke. I hate always feeling inadequate because I don't want to sing loud Hokkien songs with my extended family. They will never understand Sarah Mclachlan, Tori Amos -like tunes that I pen.
Alien. My dad is so much refined and open-minded compared to my uncles. One of my uncles just lectured me on being Chinese again. How I should always be Chinese and I should never ever forget my roots. How most 'ang moh's are bad. How western-ness was bad. All delivered in a loud loud loud tone [ironic since his son is also studying in Australia]
Bah. Chinese. I'm not Chinese. I'm a Malaysian that's ethnically Chinese. And I don't even feel Malaysian most of the time. I feel like nothing. I don't belong anywhere.
I speak and write in 3 languages and 2 dialects.
I get along with every race I meet , I think. But I feel anchorless.
The only comfort is, I belong to God. Always will.
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