It's strange, really. I don't find excitement striding by the fiction novels section in the bookstore anymore. I don't prance about in glee when I see the new installment to the science fiction trilogy I was so ensconced with a while go. I examine the covers of recommended reads, read the synopsis at the back, only to discover that I've come across another cliche tale of two war torn souls, or of individuals attempting to start anew and yet have the past chase them.
It doesn't affect me anymore, and that in itself, affects me.
And you know what else is strange? Listening to M83's Hurry Up, We're Dreaming album about two years after it's release. Previously, I've only ever heard Midnight City, Reunion, When Will You Come Home? as well as Train to Pluton, but even so, in inaccurate order. I don't know why this matters to me, but it somehow does. I guess M83 just instills this sense of surrealism within your psyche that it arrests your ability to think logically and you somewhat just forget what you really mean to say in the first place.
Having said that, there's really nothing more satisfying than driving at a hundred on a highway, college bound, just as the sun is coming up while listening to Midnight City. Or any other track on the 2 disc deluxe album.
On a slightly more hopeful note, I think I'm a little more optimistic now in life. I've come to realize that it's okay to be me. It doesn't matter whether or not my college friends care about me or what I think, or whether they even see me as a friend in spite of my inability to connect with their thoughts in Mandarin. It doesn't matter that I don't have a boyfriend now in college and that my parents will see to it that I don't get involved in any relationships until I graduate. It doesn't matter what people say about my ability to speak Chinese, as long as I know fairly well enough that I can and that I am the decider of the language I choose to utilize in communication.
It doesn't matter that I hate being associated with individuals of a certain excessively populated group I constantly hang out with and not being able to hang out with people I think I can click with. It doesn't matter that once this semester is over, I may almost return to my state of loneliness again because chances are my Honey Boo Boo, Mei Mei and Kennard (no nickname for him) will drift apart from me, just as they did during the summer sem when I had no mutual classes with them. It doesn't matter that my opinions aren't counted for, because apparently everything I say is too complex and nobody wants to talk about the hard stuff so I'll just save them for the future when I get to give my very own TED talk.
It doesn't matter that I'll be stuck here longer than most of my peers, because at least I know what I'm getting myself into and I will be prepared for that life-changing moment when it comes. It doesn't matter that I'm a little slow at getting the things I want, or even need, because I know that life isn't simply about right here and right now - good things will come to us in the right way, at the right time. It doesn't matter that I have to have a little less, because my parents work hard for every single thing that I own right now, including this laptop in which I am constructing this blog post on and the broadband in which my connection to you is being established.
I couldn't be more grateful for having a little less, because it makes me appreciate life more.
I must admit, I was about to burst after all that pressure, and all the stupid questions people imposed upon me. I really didn't need another "Hey, you look tired, go and sleep," or an "Are you okay?" that comes out of obligation and of no concern. I often play it off pretty well when faced with the falsity of expressions, but this week was the final straw. I was just so tired, so tired of all the stupid jokes, of all the subliminal discriminatory antics, of all the unwanted innuendos. I had enough.
But if there's anything I've learned from the past eighteen years of my life where these situations have taken place time and time again, from primary school to high school and even now, in university, it's the fact that I don't need everything to be happy. I only have one decision to make, and it's important that I choose what is right.
And I choose happiness.
Therefore, I also choose sleep. Because I know well enough that I am simply tired, and that when I wake up tomorrow morning, I'll be fine again and all this anger will dissipate into the artificially cooled air I am currently breathing.
Je t'aime. One aunt.
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