There were many unfair events that plagued me as I matured. I grew up the stereotypical spoiled Chinese brat, showered with the blessing and the curse of having my every whim catered to and my every action, no matter how appalling, go completely unpunished. My rate of development was exceptionally high at that age, however, and what most parents of my type of child usually realised far too late to change anything was realised by mine at three and a half years of age; this could not continue.
In my infancy my manner had some semblance to that of the devil. My sole purpose in life seemed to be to turn all that I met against me at the first possible opportunity. My mad search for limits that did not exist was at the root of all these problems. As the days went on and I continued to inflict physical and lifelong mental harm on those around me, it became painfully apparent that the complete lack of discipline in my house would soon become unendurable.
Shortly thereafter a tremendous change was evident in the parenting methods applied to me. I could no longer reduce my grandparents to tears through my words or absent-mindedly physically attack guests to our home without some sort of reprehension. The change was swift and very effective and soon it appeared that I had been normalised. There were no more threats towards family members or senseless attacks on people I had known for less than 15 seconds. Due to the early intervention of my parents, I was cured.
Or so it appeared. The three and a half years that I had lived as a devil incarnate did not leave me unscathed and patterns were formed in my mind that continue to exist today. Firstly, these scattered occurrences in my past ushered in a new level of awareness to my mind. Nothing could be seen as simply as it was before. Nothing is as it first appears. Because of this I will often find myself listening to a conversation in another room or contemplating a ceiling tile while I should be listening or working. Secondly, I will often unconsciously attempt to test the limits and boundaries of what I am allowed to do. This subconscious pattern has resulted in many painful incidents that have tested my resolve to continue living.
It is with this manner that I have faced the world, searching and probing for hidden truths and boundaries while simultaneously attempting to function normally like everyone else. This constant fragmentation of the power of my brain has resulted in pathetic performance in school and numerous crushing social defeats due to extremely poor judgement and slow train of thought on my part.
I resorted to self-pity and then victimisation, convincing myself that the world was against me and finally settled with self-loathing. This was probably the worst option I could have picked, since at least with the others I could have escaped with some small part of my self-esteem intact. As time went along, this choice would result in the blatant idolisation of everyone that I met and the infliction of the inferiority syndrome that continues to beset me today.
Much of my life has been spent in deep thought about why I am the way I am. I have quite inadvertently lain awake in bed for hours at a time pondering this thought. Throughout the day things occur which can be summed up as random convocations of mindless anger from embarrassing or crushing moments from my past.
My pain was made worse during my early years as I watched the other, normal children and I saw in them what would have also been in me had my parents not altered their ways. The utter apathy displayed by them towards their own parents and the manner in which they thoughtlessly behaved reminded me of what my parents had done for me. One situation from my childhood comes to mind when I witnessed a mother standing- STANDING, mind you- in the cold rain outside my old school. When her daughter appeared and headed towards the lunchroom she stepped in out of the rain holding a plastic bag, which she had been careful not to wet as it held the food she had brought for her daughter. This, the daughter snapped up and took without a word. She found a seat and sat down while her mother took her place and stood behind her, silent and waiting for her to finish. She took a couple, and by a couple I mean two, bites and then took her lunch to the trash, where she scraped it all in, being careful not to miss a grain of rice. Smiling, she handed the empty lunch container back to her mother simply stating, "I'm not that hungry today" and left. That carefree soul could have been mine.
Many other situations such as these reminded me of how different I was from the others and I must confess I was extremely resentful of them and their lax and spoiling parents and their carefree, unburdened, effortless lives. Having no recollection of what it was like before I had been forced to change my behaviour I could not imagine what it could be like living the luxury life almost every single other student I have met in my entire life knows. Coupled with my suffering intelligence this situation makes for a grim spectacle.
There are very few words to describe the anguish my mind puts me through almost daily and the worries that will guarantee me an early grave. Did things have to happen this way? Could I possibly have changed something along the road? No. These things just are. There can be only one history, and the history that will be shall be. The unalterable road goes on, it's course unforeseeable and completely unavoidable. The misery of the past will always be there regardless of anything that I may choose to do besides suicide, which requires more grit than I can muster to carry out.
In my infancy my manner had some semblance to that of the devil. My sole purpose in life seemed to be to turn all that I met against me at the first possible opportunity. My mad search for limits that did not exist was at the root of all these problems. As the days went on and I continued to inflict physical and lifelong mental harm on those around me, it became painfully apparent that the complete lack of discipline in my house would soon become unendurable.
Shortly thereafter a tremendous change was evident in the parenting methods applied to me. I could no longer reduce my grandparents to tears through my words or absent-mindedly physically attack guests to our home without some sort of reprehension. The change was swift and very effective and soon it appeared that I had been normalised. There were no more threats towards family members or senseless attacks on people I had known for less than 15 seconds. Due to the early intervention of my parents, I was cured.
Or so it appeared. The three and a half years that I had lived as a devil incarnate did not leave me unscathed and patterns were formed in my mind that continue to exist today. Firstly, these scattered occurrences in my past ushered in a new level of awareness to my mind. Nothing could be seen as simply as it was before. Nothing is as it first appears. Because of this I will often find myself listening to a conversation in another room or contemplating a ceiling tile while I should be listening or working. Secondly, I will often unconsciously attempt to test the limits and boundaries of what I am allowed to do. This subconscious pattern has resulted in many painful incidents that have tested my resolve to continue living.
It is with this manner that I have faced the world, searching and probing for hidden truths and boundaries while simultaneously attempting to function normally like everyone else. This constant fragmentation of the power of my brain has resulted in pathetic performance in school and numerous crushing social defeats due to extremely poor judgement and slow train of thought on my part.
I resorted to self-pity and then victimisation, convincing myself that the world was against me and finally settled with self-loathing. This was probably the worst option I could have picked, since at least with the others I could have escaped with some small part of my self-esteem intact. As time went along, this choice would result in the blatant idolisation of everyone that I met and the infliction of the inferiority syndrome that continues to beset me today.
Much of my life has been spent in deep thought about why I am the way I am. I have quite inadvertently lain awake in bed for hours at a time pondering this thought. Throughout the day things occur which can be summed up as random convocations of mindless anger from embarrassing or crushing moments from my past.
My pain was made worse during my early years as I watched the other, normal children and I saw in them what would have also been in me had my parents not altered their ways. The utter apathy displayed by them towards their own parents and the manner in which they thoughtlessly behaved reminded me of what my parents had done for me. One situation from my childhood comes to mind when I witnessed a mother standing- STANDING, mind you- in the cold rain outside my old school. When her daughter appeared and headed towards the lunchroom she stepped in out of the rain holding a plastic bag, which she had been careful not to wet as it held the food she had brought for her daughter. This, the daughter snapped up and took without a word. She found a seat and sat down while her mother took her place and stood behind her, silent and waiting for her to finish. She took a couple, and by a couple I mean two, bites and then took her lunch to the trash, where she scraped it all in, being careful not to miss a grain of rice. Smiling, she handed the empty lunch container back to her mother simply stating, "I'm not that hungry today" and left. That carefree soul could have been mine.
Many other situations such as these reminded me of how different I was from the others and I must confess I was extremely resentful of them and their lax and spoiling parents and their carefree, unburdened, effortless lives. Having no recollection of what it was like before I had been forced to change my behaviour I could not imagine what it could be like living the luxury life almost every single other student I have met in my entire life knows. Coupled with my suffering intelligence this situation makes for a grim spectacle.
There are very few words to describe the anguish my mind puts me through almost daily and the worries that will guarantee me an early grave. Did things have to happen this way? Could I possibly have changed something along the road? No. These things just are. There can be only one history, and the history that will be shall be. The unalterable road goes on, it's course unforeseeable and completely unavoidable. The misery of the past will always be there regardless of anything that I may choose to do besides suicide, which requires more grit than I can muster to carry out.
