reason for me to disappear
Thursday, April 30, 2009 @ 4:01 pm.
[font regulated because I realise not everyone wants to read this, including myself. But I kinda want to keep this here just for a record.]
I'm sorry.
After the game, you said that between mental competence and physical competence, mental competence would be more important.
But the difference between life and death could be how fast you dodge the blade.
But you know what, it has nothing to do with that.
I am sorry, everyone.
I am sorry for disappointing you.
I am sorry for making a bloody mess of everything, all because of who I am.
I am sorry that I am not 160 centimetres tall, or 50 kg, or following the treasured trend of Taller Than Your Parents.
I am sorry that I am fourteen years old. I should be twelve years old, because that's what you say I am.
I am sorry, world.
I am sorry for depriving a more deserving human of a place in existence.
Okay?
I mean it, I do.
I have tried. I have tried tennis, I have tried swimming, I have tried table tennis, I have tried golf, I have tried ice skating. I have tried volleyball and soccer and running and high jump and multi-sports. I have tried piano, I have tried guitar, I have tried recorder, I have tried violin. I have tried captain's ball, bench-ball, basketball, picketball, baseball, rounders and balls balls balls. I have tried everything you asked me to try.
And do you know what I get after eight years of trying?
After all of that, nothing.
I cannot improve on my bloody playing skills.
(Nor my Chinese skills, if you want to know.)
And the reason why I don't continue is not because I don't want to, but because I can't. Because my mother will tear me apart if I don't eat and my teachers will tear me apart if I don't work so I can't play recess basketball (it also may be because everyone else is good but that doesn't really fall under can't, but cowardice). I can't go to the gym with my sister because I'm never at home, and when I'm at home, I'm working. I can't train because my parents see no reason for me to, and even if I played a simple ball game (like their tennis or something) all they do is play doubles-turned-singles and laugh when I miss the ball.
Or maybe it's not my fault.
Maybe it's just because I'm not tall enough or something.
Think about it, they throw high because they are used to throwing to tall people.
Maybe that's why I can't catch it.
Or maybe it's because...
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Stop making excuses. I know it's my fault.
Maybe someone should just take me away, right now, cut my mouth out, give me a speech, give me a song, give me a manifesto, though I would kick and scream till I broke my mind, just so that I could stop spouting this rubbish.
I shouldn't have played, shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have failed.
But you wouldn't know that, would you, because you've already been accepted into the exclusive school of Preference and Proficiency.
I wanted to send them an apology, when I got that rejection letter.
I wanted to apologise for wasting their time on something they thought was worthwhile just because it was sent.
I am sorry, everyone.
I am sorry that I tried, and I failed.
I am sorry, I'm the weakest link.
I am sorry that even now you're too embarrassed, too contemptuous, too tactful, too patronising to say my name.
I am sorry I can't be as good as the human whom I wrested her place in existence from.
I am sorry, I should go back to the dust of your feet.
I am sorry, I asked for more.
I am sorry, I should try harder.
I am sorry, you look at me as the person who will, guaranteed, ruin Everything.
Now, those with eyes to see and ears to hear, tell me how much sarcasm there was in what I just said.
None, none.
I meant every word.