Not good enough.

These three words ring incessantly in my head, tug my heartstrings when I mouth it and work up those tear ducts yet again.

Perhaps I fooled myself yet again. thinking all is lost, I'm not that bad. I knew I was never the cream of the crop, I mean, how could I be right? I never excelled in academia, I never gotten that straight As. In fact, I work so hard to get a B+ that most people complain about. I was never selected for special projects and I have nothing, I mean NOTHING that I can say I got that's unique and special. Other than being stupid.

I wish I could complain about the long applications, I wish I could complain about the uncomfortable formal attire, I wish I could complain about the spam of emails. I wish I was good enough.

I think I'm just not. People probably expect me to get an ordinary boring admin desk-bound job, get married, have kids then be a housewife.

As simple as that. People don't expect much from me.

Dear God

I know that You heard my prayer yesterday. I could feel it.

Please God, whatever it is, just give them the peace, give him the peace and give everyone the peace in our hearts.

We need this peace amidst the anxiety and worry.

Amen

It's exactly a month till I leave Seattle and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. I know I have alot going for me back home but this life, THE life which I never knew I wanted just takes every inch of my heart, pulling my heart strings till I yearn for Seattle more than I yearn for home.

Life has been great, I've started to appreciate baseball, I basked in the sun, I drank gallons of coffee and I trod to school in light, happy steps.

It's all going to change soon, isn't it?

And I still don't want it to, no matter how many times I lie to myself how much I want to go home.

Have you ever been so fat that people make fun of you? Have you ever hated yourself, wishing sometimes that you weren't born into this world? Has the thought of trading souls with the devil just to look good cross your mind? It all did for me.

It's funny how some people scorn with disdain at anorexia or bulimia, it's funny how they think it's the stupidest thing anyone could do to hurt themselves. What they don't know is the pain of everything a person has to go through, the struggle of self-hate and worthlessness of one's own body.

Watching the film ' To be Fat Like Me' made me revisit those memories, those haunting memories. People you love, people who love you telling you in your face how fat you were, making snide remarks about weight gain or flabby thighs. Even the well-meaning remarks like "maybe you should exercise more' or " try to eat more healthy food" never failed to feel like daggers, stabbing the measly enough self-esteem in me.

With all the pain and pressure, whether self-inflicted or not, how could anyone wonder why wouldn't anyone end up with an eating disorder. The pain of hiding that eating disorder would seem far less severe that going through the taunting or any comments related to weight. Hearing words like " Oh you look thinner now" felt better than winning a lottery and the feeling of fitting into smaller size clothing? Priceless.

All that obsession stemmed from the unwillingness to feel the pain of being sneered and jeered. Is it still as funny now? Is it still that unbelievable that one would resort to methods of harming the body just to lose weight?

Think again people. I am over this phase now and yet it pains me so much that the haunting memories can leave me distraught. The next time you poke fun at someone being overweight or fat, realise what you have done.

Sometimes, that damage can never be undone.

I don't want the Singaporean dream. That's all I know.

I hate to admit it, but the feeling of being 'old' sets in when scenarios around me just had to prove it. It doesn't even have to be extreme situations, even random moments when you realise, 'oh crap, I'm not young anymore.'

Of course I don't mean wrinkles ( but heck, I've already started on anti-aging products) or white hair, saggy skin or aching bones. It's like a state-of-mind, of what's acceptable or what's not.

When I was a younger, daikon, spring onions or any sort of onions were definite no-nos. I would meticulously pick them out or stubbornly refuse to allow them any contact with my body. Yet recently, I find myself craving for them, appreciating the wonderful complex taste of these 'awful' veggies.

Take the two door cinema club concert for example, preteens and teens were moshing together, and it was helluva discomfort. Probably my worst experience at a concert though the music was good. The thought of staying at home blasting the music while sipping a cup of tea comforted me, yet jolted me back to reality. My oh my, sounds comforting to someone awfully old.

And then playing the album now with the lyrics ' We're not kids you know" blasting in the background. Obviously I'm not a kid, I probably haven't used that term to my parents since, 18? Yet when the fans around me during the concert sang along, it felt as if the feeling resonated in their hearts. All I could think of was " Pffft. duh?"

Did I mention how I find it comforting to have seniors and post graduates in my class, even though the classes are definitely much harder this semester. Enough of freshies already, annoying little gits.

I was thinking on the way back from school one day, when was the happiest time of my life.

So many happy incidents of course, but a period which was truly memorable? A period where I felt so carefree and happy, being away from it all, being in a place where there was no politics, no anger, no unhappiness and where life was just simple and fun.

Then I realised it was the AME period in Chiang Mai.

Sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor, showering in a toilet where flooding was perpetual, seeing huge lizards (sometimes frogs) and without the internet for 2 weeks.

Yet I was so happy, I didn't need my comfy bed or 2000 threadcount bedsheets. I didn't need a gorgeous shower and I didn't need high speed internet.

I always wondered, how come I was so happy then, even happier than now when I'm in Seattle, with my own apartment, with a relatively high speed internet and a nice bathroom.

I still haven't figured why. But all I know is that suddenly I miss those times. Every new person met was a brother or sister.

Maybe, the older one becomes, the harder it is to be happy. Or maybe my eyes have become clouded, that only shiny new things would be able to catch my attention.

Whatever it is, I have decided. During my graduation trip, I probably would take a month off to go back there again. Things would be different, but we'll see.

Maybe right now, I just need to be away from it all.