Mama called me a shithead. Just because she thinks I don't know how to socialise with people. Especially her kind of "people".
My inability to form social connection with other people is apparently noticeable. When I was in primary school, my report card always referred me as "gifted in the arts, impressive linguistic ability, but disturbingly quiet in class."
I don't see the need to talk to people if there is nothing to talk about. When there is something important and urgent that I need to say, then I'll say it. Why does everyone expect me to be a chatterbox? No one understands my thoughts and perceptions of the world anyway, so why should I talk to you if you won't understand me? Go get a parrot and leave me alone.
I have a confession - I can't see the world in its three-dimensional form. I have suspected long ago that my short attention span (I can concentrate on something only for 10 minutes) might be related to the way I view the world. Everything I see is in two dimensions, which may explain why I cannot draw still-life and potraits properly. Every drawing of mine that you see in this blog are how I actually see the world. People, animals and plants look flat to me. When I talk to you I will feel the need to withdraw from you, because I have seen you completely. We can be friends... but it will never last long.
Amel is destined to born, live and die alone. My twin did not survive when I came into this world - he (or was it a she?) was not even complete in form. Just a mass of deformed flesh. Mama told me that I must have stolen my twin's soul inside her womb. It reminds me of a story about Esau and Jacob in Grandpa Koh's Bible that I read out of curiosity:
And the children struggled together within her; and she said, If it be so, why am I thus? And she went to enquire of the Lord. And the Lord said unto her, Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated from thy bowels; and the one people shall be stronger than the other people; and the elder shall serve the younger.
- Genesis 25:22-23
After carrying us for a year and three months in her womb, Mama was quite worried especially when her peers thought it abnormal for a pregnancy to go on more than 9 months. The doctors found nothing was wrong with her, but offered to perform a Ceasarian on her if she consented to it. But Mama preferred to deliver us through natural process because she feared of losing her maternal instinct on her newborns by opting for a Ceasarian.
On the 7th of November, Amel and his twin were delivered. As I grew older, I remember asking Mama what she named my twin before Dad buried him/her. It was Amel. I was supposed to be named Jamel. But I took over the name Amel instead.
The park is so quiet today. It makes one feel nervous and lonely. Nervous because this area is heavily littered with muggers and fake coppers. Lonely because, well... there's no one in sight when I looked around.
Found a place to sit and think.
What am I thinking about? Fire... huge burning fire. Tree ashes underneath rubble and fire. Steaming flesh and blood seeping through the walls of houses. Flames spreading fiercely on collapsing roofs. And charred bones strewn on burnt ground. Don't ask me why, it suddenly popped in my head.
It seems my nightmares are beginning to haunt me even when I'm awake.
Hm, I wonder how he is right now.
The stupid swans are gobbling up the hash browns I brought along to the park. Gee said she's watching her weight, so she gave away those hash browns for me to finish.
The last time I saw him was when we had breakfast at McD's together. He was so quiet when he left. I can't believe it's already three months since then.
He's not coming back, is he?
I hid in the library again today. I don't feel like talking to anyone. I want to stay hidden among the bookshelves forever... and no one will ever find me.
I forgot which book it was, but there's a paragraph in it that I find fascinating:
What is death? A situation where an existence ceases. What type of ceased existence inside a man that is comparable to death itself?
Is it the mental faculty powers? The freedom of exercising will-power and autonomy? The need for faith and to believe in something?
What is it?
Somehow, deep inside, I may actually have something that has already died within me. Does this mean that I am already dead inside without myself knowing it?
Emotional attachment. Faith. Trust. Self-identity.
Perhaps these are what have died inside me.
"PERGILAH" BY NEWS AT 11 is playing in my mind today.
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