Who am I?

I don’t know what i think of him. I can’t tell what are the emotions, and its because i have been so used to being some sort of emotional vaccum. I have no soul.

He’s really manipulative and that puts me in a very difficult position. On the one hand, i should be horrified at his manipulation, yet at the same time - i being me - i admire his ability to manipulate, and to do so so well. This sense of admiration almost seems to outweight the horror, and this is very bad. Hence, i have made a list of seven reasons as to why my answer would be no.

He’s a manipulator.

He’s a player.

He makes me become someone I dont want to become.

He makes me feel tainted.

He’s got a bad reputation.

He has baggage.

He waited till I was drunk.

He does not treat me as a friend.

Pros:

He dresses amazingly.

He’s an economist.

He looks nice in glasses.

For the last few years, i have been recognized as someone who strictly, and more often than not, stupidly adheres to odd principles, that often are not morally driven but just seem to have be formed myself. It is these which guide me, and it is these which i get ridiculed often about by my friends. Indeed, they have been an important part of my identity as someone who is ‘morally upright’ … or at least who presents themselves as such.

But recently, i have been corrupted, i have become exactly what i have disliked. I have become a hypocrit. I know why i have always wanted to be a morally upright person, to right the wrongs and unfairness of society, yet i now know i have failed. I have suffered under the unfair end, asking why do the others not see the unfairness of it all, why don’t they be the one to change it, to make a difference. But, suddenly when given the opportunity to experience the apparent ‘easy life’ I quickly jump on the bandwagon and I quickly lose my self-respect, dignity and principles. Such a hypocrit.

I don’t have anorexia. I’m not fat. I’m thin.. and I probably hate myself for it. ’Skinny’ - one my best friend says. It sounds like a compliment, but i know how its just another word for scrawly, veiny, boney… ugly.  

I’m not white. I’m yellow. Many times, I have hated myself for it. Its an awful feeling. How can i hate my own race, my own skintone? But sometimes I just despise myself.

I ask myself why can’t i look like her, or her, or her. No, i don’t compare myself with models or girls on tv, or in magazines. I compare myself to reallife people. People who i go to school with, people i see everyday, people who are beautiful.

Everyone agrees these people are beautiful. I agree too. Shame, i can’t participate. See, normally people in my situation would compare themselves to an ugly duckling, but i won’t. Because anyone who has read the story will know that the ugly duckling always turns into a swan. Shame, this just isn’t one of those stories.

The reason i hate my own skintone sometimes is because i think that is what makes me ugly in their eyes. Because what i can offer does not adhere to their beauty preferences. Interestingly, I think this one of the reasons I like going back. Over there in that faraway land, i’m not different, i’m not yellow, i’m not ugly. My skintone blends in, and then people admire my seemingly big eyes, my skinny figure and my browning hair. Over there, i’m normal. Over there, i’m not ugly.

I cannot belive the time has finally come.. seven years in this school, in this setting, with these people, and now i leave. What has become of the people i once call my friends? What has become of the people i still call my friends? What about me.. i’ve changed, i know i have.

Yet, i still look about 12. Ironically the picture on my little card is probably from when i was 12.

I’m worried. I don’t like change… i think i must be a coward. I’m scared about the future, im nervous about making my friends. I swear im some sort of social retard, i swear i cannot make friends.

Tomorrow is the end. We have become Leavers.

I don’t want to be crude and list all the stereotypes of this ethnicity, yet at the same time i find myself otherwise unable to describe it specifically to you. Today i think i may try to be subtle, and maybe oneday i may supplement this clue with more obvious writing.

A long long history. A withstanding culture. A large population. A obsessive focus on education. An obsessive focus on food. An far away land. An economically divided country. An politically controversial nation. An socially problematic place. A huge landscape.

I realize that i’m no longer talking about an ethnicity - more an country. Nevertheless, you may be able to piece something together.

The flowery language probably says it all. Yet, then again whose to say poetic rhetoric is solely used by this one gender? Merely a stereotype.

The indecisiveness is perhaps a reflection of the inner turmoil and fear of change. Whilst i protest to be a rational person, we are emotionally driven. Protected under the wings of parents. Protected by the traditional bread-winner. Societies perceptions perhaps merely leads to our sense of reliance on the dominant gender.

The unexplainable attraction to the pretty and beautiful things of life. Flowers. The Sun. Shoes. Cherry-buns. We over-romanticise everything. We dream. We believe in fairy-tales.

Reaching the turning point in my life. The pivot where the transition is made. Innoncence to experience. Never has Blake been more fitting. This is the age.

The year that finally means i am old enough to go out into world on my own two feet. Finally able to show people that little card, and say this is me. This is the age.

Yet, im more clueless than ever. Although this year i’ve made some huge decisions, but what does that mean? It means the unknown…it means change…it means excitement… it means hope…it means youth. This is the age.

I know that he’ll say that i’m still young. Yet, i can almost empathise with the feelings in Fern Hill and Poem in October. This is the age.

I wonder where i’ll be next year. Anywhere. This is the age.