Suicide

So really all I have to do us to drink bleach?

Fuck you.

Honestly, whether you're my biological father or not, I feel like you aren't my father. Yeah, you support me financially but that's not all a father has to do right? You do t even fucking know that I have a chance to meet the Deputy Prime fucking Minister and you act like you do t fucking care about me.
  maybe I'm just selfish. Maybe. Maybe it's not right to feel like this. Maybe I don't deserve it. Maybe. But it hurts a hell lot to know that I can't let it out. I can't get what I want. Yes I am selfish. But this matter hurts me.

 Dad, did you even fucking cared about me when I was little. All I fucking remember is either you shouting at me for touching your power tools, hitting me or just plain naggi g at me. You've never been happy for me. I won ALL those competitions just so you could NOTICE me and hear me. Dad, you don't fucking care if I even broke my fuckig body and you'll still nag at me for the hospital bills or me being so fucking useless. That's you. That's you from my fucking point dad. And you know what. It fucking sucks. I can never talk to you or converse with you normally because you think everything I say is sacarstic and is mean. I was trying to make you laugh. Or even just a smile. NO. You put those wrinkles on your face by yourself.

  I might as well change my fucking name to shit or something because I must be so fuckinf useless to be in your family.

  What's fucking worse mom doesn't even fucking care. Maybe a slight bit. But that's a slight. I can't talk to my moms out how dad is hurting my feelings without her screaming I to my face saying I dishonoure my family. Fuck you whore. Uglier with every fucking white guy I fucking knwi. What kind of a ducking example are setting you bitch? I can't talk toyou even about Korean boys because you think I'm gonna fuking fuck them or something.

You guys are fucking irrelevant. I can never get any sense out of you two. You're doctors, it doesn't mean you're smart in every fucking piece of shit. You're just hardworking it doesn't fucking mean you're smart in shit. You're definitely not smart in parenting. That's all I know. I hope you see this. But at the same time I hope you don't because I'd probably be getting more beatings and nags than love and compassion. WHICH I WILL NEVER EVER SEE IN MY LIFE. HAHAHAHAH. Oh God.


Sincerely, or not sincerely, your daughter in tears.

The tale of my mom who practice favouritism in denial.

Being labelled at school is one thing but being labelled by your mom is whole other level of insult. It just adds as much blood and pain because there's a person that you love so very much and he/she is hurting you verbally. Every Asian kid have to feel at least some kind of physical pain but what hurts is not the bruise, it's the memory. It stays on forever, like it or not. You're lucky if you could go through life forgetting about every bad memory in life. But you're probably suffering from amnesia.

  I had a dilemma very similar like this that happened three years ago. But of course it dates all the way back in kindie school where being loved is crucial for one's healthy childhood. I had the best day, being tortured by kids because of my size and teachers neglecting me, because of my size and grandparents wondering like it's a world mystery on how chubby I can get, because of my size. I thank my lucky stars that my dad was a busy working man at my young age or not he'll also be one of the people on my list that I'd like to kill  contributed the source of my low self-esteem.

  I remember once there was a very dark moody morning and I was about the age of 5 (I think), the class was silent with pure looking faces at the bipolar teacher. I don't know what we did wrong, or more of what I did wrong but whichever kid that needs to go the toilet is excused but when they come back they will terribly face the teacher with a big perspex cutter. I didn't need to go the toilet but something snapped and the urge to let my own Niagara fall was in the way of saving myself from the treacherous teacher. So I made a whole big scene with the teacher and was crying very loudly. I think I got slapped by her fat oily hand but who cares, her presence still make me cringe.  None of the teachers believed me. None of the kids stood up for me. Nobody cared. It was like somebody farted and it just passed around like wind. Am I that unnoticeable? Am I that easy to resist? For crying out loud, a kid is crying her life out that she went through abuse. Not caring? You're inhumane. I swore to myself that I'll come back to the kindergarten wearing all white with white boots carrying a heavy gun killing everybody in sight. My mother gave me a tight slap across the face for being such a brat at school. My dad just looked neutral. As if I'm not a threat and even if I am, he wouldn't do anything.

  Two years later, the same thing happened. I was simply doing my work with my terrible handwriting and suddenly my English teacher (who I still dread till today. I have plans on going back to primary school and just slap her face and make her apologize to me) being all schizophrenic and all used those heavy wooden rulers and made a nice red swollen mark on my knuckles. Her excuse, make my handwriting better. The swelling went down fast and there was no proof for me to show my mom the abuse I went through. Instead, she gave me the cold shoulder. I was devastated. There was practically nobody to go to. Really. A situation nobody could ever guess.

I was left hurt. The piece of glass still sits in my heart.

So enough with the blast of the past. My main focus is my mom's practice of favoritism in denial not child abuse.

My brother came back one day with a red scar on his face that spread as wide as the H1N1 epidemic. I got worried so I went and applied some cream and put a neat bandage over it. I even took the effort to put some of my favourite BB Cream to cover small grazed skins over his cheek. My mom, the lady who didn't care about child abuse called up the school, threatening to sue the school over their carelessness. She told everybody even friends outside her clique, practically every person she met the story of her son's face would be the most important. She went all the way to write a letter, talk to teachers, talk and argued with the kids' parents' and more teachers too. So much love for my brother.

Let me tell you my story then.

  I had handball practice and I fell. Hard. Very hard on my ankle. I bet there was a fracture there and it hurt so much more than giving birth. I could tell. I didn't cry because I know it's stupid to cry about it. My team mates were kind and tended to me like a real mom would. A teacher called my mom and she was screaming all over the phone on how I keep distracting her from work. I told her that my ankle got twisted in between her fits and also told her that it probably got fractured. She stopped for a while and asked these exact questions.
MOM: Where were you when you fell down?
ME: At the school field.
MOM: Where are you now?
Me: Under some tree in the canteen.
MOM: Stupid girl. Very stupid. I taught you better! You don't listen very well. I think you have autism. Stupid girl, you can't walk if you had a fracture anywhere. You walked all the way down the stairs so I don't think you can fool me with your crap. I'm a doctor. So stop wasting my time and everybody's time. Go and study.
-phone goes dead-

It took three girls and a teacher to help me walk down the stairs. Because of my weight and my retarded ankle.

  When everybody went to their practices, I sat under the shady tree with the sun shining so very bright, tearing. I cried because I really thought nobody loved me. And I had this thought for years and this proved it. I thought I was strong to not cry, strong to withstand the pain. But I realized that it wasn't the physical pain that I was facing, but the emotional pain I had to go through. I was 11 by the way.

My mom waited in front of the gate to pick me up. One of my friend wanted to offer a hand but I said no. It took me a while to reach up to her. She got very impatient and said that I was very good at acting. I went back home and cried myself to sleep. My dad later came to my room and complained that I stink and should belong to a zoo. He gave a me an ankle guard and said "You're gonna have problems when you grow up. Especially with your weight. You're fat as hell. You shouldn't eat so much. Do you understand me?" I nodded and slept off again.

I don't know whether this act of favoritism came from my looks, my age, my attitude? I'm confused as of right now.

Today something struck me to write this down. First, my mother rudely hit my door. In her defense, it's call waking me up or not you can't be a doctor. She looked at me so cruelly like what you can find from the Queen's face from Snow White. I get very moody when I wake up when I don't plan to. It sounds very bratty but a cloud of anger will be hard to erase kay. So fine. OK. That was nothing. Then the first two things she whispered to me was, "You either clean and mop the whole house or peel all the onions and garlic." SO FINE. I choose the mopping chore with an obviously annoyed face. I filled up the pail and brought it to the kitchen behind a divider and dropped it a little bit harshly. I heard my mom saying this to my grandparents, "Imagine if she was our maid. I would be so annoyed, dropping things everywhere." My grandfather laughed. Pissed beyond relief, angry beyond hell. I couldn't stop tears and curses coming out. Compare me to a maid? And say that like in secrecy? I felt insulted more than any fat names teased by family and peers, combined. Do I make your life so terrible? I would shift out if that is what you really want. I'd rather go to my friend's houses and sleep on the couch that sleep on my bed knowing that my own blood and kin whispering nasty things about me. I wonder if it's karma? Or is it just me.

Kay. I don't want my mom to see my face all swollen and red from crying. I'm going to listen to music now.

Won't you get bummed out for something you know you can do better than people but no one recognizes it? It's sickeningly frustrating. Part of me wants to show the world that I CAN do better than you dipshits and a part of me says humility is the policy. Be humble? Sure but thats' whats' stopping me from showing people my abilities. People only come to me for work not because they see me as someone to talk to and chill out.

I can't be comfortable around people when I can't be comfortable with myself. I think that speaks for itself. I use the Internet because I find it pleasant when people don't see my face.  Gosh. I make a bad reputation of myself.

What I feel, I do. Most of the times.

My mind goes blank everytime I click on the tittle part. Like what the hell do I write without being too fat, preppy, perky, mainstream or crap like that. So I guess weird tittles are fine. DEAL WITH IT. <--My brother's favourite punch line. So today's post is going to be on the quirkier side too.

Dear empty white space, 


How are you? I hope your white space hasn't become whiter or whiter. I like you the same old white empty space. I'm fine here. It's pretty sunny. And I hope that secret trip my parents have been planning is true. I really do hope so.


  Today is beautiful. I felt alive. I felt...not fat. I felt great. Like I can breathe the dusty air without having to worry about my double chin. I can laugh without worrying about my chin or my stomach expanding or not. 


  I felt happy.


  I want this to go on forever empty white space. I actually have the right mood and mind to practice my Maths. But of course, I'd like to talk to you first empty white space. Today's practices have been peaceful. Although my leader was very pissed off, but me being tired equals to a happy girl.


  I didn't do too good on my runs today though. I was slow. I didn't stop but I was slow. My dog still hates me and so do my whole class. Thankfully there are a few good people there that I can comfortably talk without judgement. Though critique is accepted. When logical and socially accepted. Either ways,


  it was a good day.


  Until, I let myself down with my weak willpower to resist food. I ate three small pieces of chicken popcorn. I was disappointed. I was upset on how easily I thought I could 'reason' out my diet. Just because Aunt Red is visiting and some hormone crap told me that it is ok to eat. 


  So I ate.


  And I felt sick the whole day. Bad mistake. And even after that, when I came home after practices, I had a bowl of soup and 5 thin slices of fried potato, a teaspoon of curry, and a bit of pork. It was filling. Which is bad. I'm NOT supposed to be full. I'm suppose to be 'enough'.


  I'm worried white empty space. Firstly, I'm not on good terms with my best friend and now, myself wants to pick a fight with me while I just stand there and let them quarrel. 


  What shall I ever do?


  It's weird how selfish I am though. There are many other poor kids with even bigger problems, yet, they're living life with that term, 'YOLO'. I here create a big fuss. A storm in a teacup. 


  Will you help me white empty space? Will you help me go through my silliness? My foolishness? To teach me the correct ways. I should be punished. I'm sorry in advance. But it's great to know that you'd actually acknowledge me. I've got to do Maths empty white space. So long.

Yours for never.

...............

  

From the thefatgirlsguide.com

“When [your friends] say “You’re not fat,” what they really mean is “You’re not a dozen nasty things I associate with the word fat.” The size of your body is not what’s in question; a tape measure or a mirror could solve that dispute. What’s in question is your goodness, your lovability, your intelligence, your kindness, your attractiveness. And your friends, not surprisingly, are inclined to believe you get high marks in all those categories. Ergo, you couldn’t possibly be fat.
But I am. I am cute and healthy and pleasant-smelling (usually) and ambitious and smart and lovable and fun and stylish and friendly and outgoing and categorically not icky. And I am fat — just like I’m also short, also American, also blonde (with a little chemical assistance). It is just one fucking word that describes me, out of hundreds that could. Those three little letters do not actually cancel out all of my good qualities.
[…]
Because fat should mean only having more adipose tissue than the average person, but it doesn’t. And every time you ignore what’s in front of your face to tell me I’m not fat because you can’t bring yourself to put me in that nasty, ugly category, you’re buying in to the idea that real fat people are all sorts of nasty, ugly things I’m not. Horseshit. I am a real fat person, and very few real fat people live up to the worst stereotypes wielded against us.
[…]
Too many women look at me and think, She can’t be fat —she looks fine, then look at themselves and think, I’m so fat — I can’t possibly look (or be) fine. Even ones who are built exactly like me. As long as the horseshit stereotypes persist — that fat women can never be healthy, smart, driven, disciplined, fashionable, attractive and eminently lovable — women who are all those things and fat will keep seeing themselves as fundamentally disgusting and unworthy. So every time someone tries to tell me I’m not fat simply because I don’t fit those stereotypes, I’m gonna keep telling them I am, too, fat, dammit! Le fat, c’est moi. This is what fat looks like.
I am a kindhearted, intelligent, attractive, person, and I am fat. There is no paradox there.”

GET ALL THAT BULLSHIT OFF.

Comes a beautiful simple blog.

I need a facial cleanser, not some saccharine cheesy strawberry pimple enhancer or some shit like that

Ok.

Phantom's 19song has been replaying in my head again and again. I just loved how they really turned banned songs into some ASDFGHJKL mashup. Seriously. It doesn't sound one bit like Hands up or Mirotic. Haha.

As she went to do something I just continued typing out what I really want to say. Because we're best friends. What the heck. Best friends are all supposed to be......open.  By the time I want to press that ENTER button, she sends me a message saying that she's back. All tears rolled down because I know that what I feel cannot really be...opened. 

That thingy is back. Gezz. It's not a bad as before but it's back. Goddamit. I need to post something up before me pops offs the connection.

It's very awkward to be in a group where people a million times smaller than me complains that they are fat. All I can do is to look down in embarrassment. In humiliation. To have a person like me to actually be in that conversation is.....
sad.
It's painful. I usually just start looking out the window or look at my hands while I try not to kill everybody while tearing. The most BEAUTIFUL girl.......says that she's fat. And that is.....I'm speechless. I look at them straight in the eye. Searching for that part of the brain where they are actually fishing for compliments or really ranting out her pain.


Lord. 

I don't like you.

I don't. If we weren't best friends I would have hate your guts and swear upon God my fists will be on you face.

In fact, I do want to plant my knuckles deep in your perfect little face. I have a grudge against you made by my own selfish emotion. Jealousy. It seems that I cannot control that emotion. Exercise for instance. Do you know what makes me run 10 rounds non stop you. Because of my jealousy. And after I'm done, I get very frustrated because of how tired and get and start imagining how you would be all fit and happy. I hate it.

Stupid blogs. All I need is advice for me to stop thinking about my jealousy and think about friendship and all they say is "GET OUT AND GET SOME FRESH AIR." or "GO AND TALK TO YOUR FRIEND." or even "GO AND SPEAK TO YOUR SCHOOL COUNSELOR OR PARENT OR WHATEVER". The bullshit I get.

I love her..to death. Even the imagination of me just thinking about her leave for 3 days because of something important, sickens me. I love her. But at the same time, I strongly dislike her.

I don't like the things she does. Like how she seems to know EVERYTHING.

I just don't like you. I'm sorry. Gosh. My fists are waiting for you. At the same time, I need my fists to cuddle around you too.

Me emotions.