Assalammu'alaikum family, friends, readers and followers of this blog.
This is a personal rant. So be warned.
I don't know how to begin, but lately I have strangers who treat me better. Not special, but as a human who has feelings, who do wrong, who makes mistakes, and who is probably distracted by her own cough.
Thank you Pakcik, thank you Bro, Thank you Wei Ling, Thank you Uncle, Thank you Aunty, and thank you Baby. That night you 6 + 2 (the ladies with the Pakcik and Bro), are the kindest to me last night. Constantly asking if I am okay, if I can handle it, if I know what to do, if I am really okay. They knew I was slightly traumatized, and with adrenaline rushing, I don't feel pain. They are strangers. Strangers I never met, converse or see before. They made me feel human. Not once they said "What did you do? What have you done?" Nope. They didn't question those. They didn't want to know who is at fault. They just wanted to know if I am okay, and if I can handle it on my own.
I have discarded a lot of things that I love doing for people. But sewing and riding are just not one of those that I can discard as I wish. Everytime I find something I like to do, people just step in and stood there staring and cursing and scolding like it is so wrong. I never had done like that to anyone I know. Never! If I love you, and you like doing something and happy in doing it, I will be happy for you. I may not like what you do, but I see the joy you get from doing it, then do. I will be happy for you. As long as you dont seek my funding, as long as you do not disturb my privacy and time, I will be happy.
I guess me being so low key, so easy to bend, people mistook me as rock. A rock that can be lifted, thrown, stepped on, kicked, and anything and it wont shout, it wont cry, it wont smile, it wont react.
Must I remind you, that I am a lady, a girl, a female. Who has feelings, who own a fragile heart, who can get hurt, who can cry, who can wound, who can fall sick, who can die..
Well, my bruises are minor, but my heart ache a whole lot. It is broken. I don't know how long it will take to recover, but it will take a long time, I am sure, otherwise not healed at all. Secretly I wished my life is shortened, and I mean it. What's the point of a long life if everything I do is just wrong in the eyes of people I love? What is the point if I do something that pleases them but having myself cursing as I do them? What is the point of living?
I am here once again, searching for my purpose in life... I am miserable.
Lost Jun
Wassalam
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