“Can we stop waiting
for the life we want to live,
and live it instead?”
It will forever mean something to me after one fine night. It is about me, the things and people that have left me emotional scars; things that I have painfully learn from but to forget them is almost impossible. I cannot get any more sombre moments.
It reminds me of both the wrong and right decisions that I have made. It reminds me that I am and forever will be strong enough to face and fight anything.
I cannot keep this song to myself even if I wanted to. Perhaps one day, I will say more of this song.
I suddenly miss my late uncle.
Right now, I could picture him facing his laptop by his study table, and the TV switched on for news. I could picture my aunt bringing his lunch to him, my dad seated right in front of him while my mom would help my aunt in the kitchen.
Then there would be me. A rebellious and angry teenager who had just a few more years before turning 18, seating opposite of where the adults hang, listening to the men’s conversations in Teochew while I mind my own business scribbling and writing in my notebook or looking through the photos in my camera. Or I would run into my cousin’s empty room to play her piano.
After, my aunt would walk in on me playing Ann’s piano while she would place some snacks for me.
When everyone else would disappear and leave my uncle be by his study table, I would take the seat opposite him where my dad would always sit and I would always talk to him about America. All he would do was smile and say, "Very good".
He was a man of little words, and it is funny how I miss his silence. Despite his silence, he had such a strong character.
When there’s no one entering the store: OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM THIS SEA OF TEXTILES DROWNING ME.
Nek minit when five women come to me for help at the same time: WHERE DID THIS INFLUX OF VAGINAS COME FROM!
Today, I saw a little boy strolling his newly bought hot pink trolley bag with Barbie’s face hugely imprinted right in the middle. He seemed really excited and didn’t seem to give a single shit. His parents were right behind him, apparently not giving a shit that their little boy was strolling a brand new hot pink Barbie trolley bag around a crowded place.
Maybe he was excited to give it to his sister, if he had one. Or maybe he was just excited that he had his first trolley bag, regardless of its color or design. Or just maybe that he was excited to celebrate himself with that trolley bag, regardless of orientation. And his parents walking behind him did not give a shit as long as he was happy.
I was running as fast as I could; nearly out of breath, I panted away. I wanted to stop but he was after me. I could never stop.
I did not look back but hearing the sinister laugh assured me that he was not too far away. I already felt defeated but I was still running for dear life like I could outrun him. No matter how loud my cries were for help, it was all in vain. It was this endless maze I was running that no matter how I tried to get lost, he was always behind me laughing sinisterly.
"Oh Debra, you just would not give up."
Suddenly, I just stopped running. I felt this excruciating pain. It was as if something sharp went through my abdomen. I looked down and I was standing in my own pool of blood. These happened after a loud bang. It sounded more cunning than any ordinary handgun. It sounded like a rifle. The Winchester Carbine to be exact. It was as if I was being hunted down.
I turned my head to look behind me, something I was sure would be the last thing I would ever see in these last few moments of my life.
He was wearing a mask, and had indeed pull the trigger to end my life.
"I am death. Your life ends here. Besides, I saw nothing but hopelessness in you. Goodbye Debra. May people actually remember you, or at least try to forget you."
Death took away my last horrible thoughts of life, and the grudges I could never really bring myself to let go. And death ended my life by pulling the trigger once more. He was the last I saw, and the excruciating pain that pierced me from the first trigger was the last I felt, and the strong odor of death was the last I smelt, and my last words were, "Shoot this bitch", and followed by the loud bang, which was the last I heard.
Suddenly… I woke up in cold sweat. It was a bad dream.
Back to reality…
I see how my mom respects my dad because she cares for him. And how my dad slices the best part of the chicken for my mom because she deserves it for spending the whole day perfecting that chicken.
My sister-in-law tells me that she really loves my brother with all of her heart. I am happy my brother married the best.
One day, I hope that that will be me and a special someone and everyone around us will feel the same as I do towards my parents and my brother and his wife now. Although most times, they seem so dysfunctional. But the love that they each have for one another makes me smile. It is as if love has drowned all the dysfunction.