The war in my mind started 3 years ago.
How did it started? I also wondered. But I reckon it has something to do with Ritalin. Apparently I have became a much more subtle person in comparison to my former self.
The only post on Facebook (where I post all of my miseries and depressed posts) I could find that is related to the civil war in my head is this:
Oh yeah, pardon the sh*t writing skills right there.
The last part? I’m still considering whether is it worth the risk to lose those fingers, probably because I don’t even know whether I am currently at the foot of the right mountain.
Let’s try to retrace the damage to see what happen.
2013 was the year of my O’s.
It seems in that very year, I had fallen down into a never ending chain of depression and drugs, followed by more self-abusive thoughts and a cycle of stress which never seemed to stop till early November.
That year, I complained about elitism. I complained about my life. I complained about how Singapore’s education system is ruining everyone’s dreams and aspirations. It seemed that the only time I had proper writing skills is when the post was about something sad.
It was that year that my mind split into two factions.
One side was my heart.
It was where my dreams and aspirations basked in the freedom of my imagination. It unleashed itself during my rides on the bus and MRTs, where I will escape into a journey of warmth and happiness, while bypassing the academical sadists and Ritalin poppers in the other fraction.
It told me, that your dreams and aspirations are something feasible in reality, and that I should chase it.
Rancho: Make your passion your profession
The other side was my mind. It never had any imagination and always focused on reality. It is the side that you would take to a war. It never loved risk and always wanted to have a clear shot to victory. It told me, that Singapore only gave a damn about the people who had the most illustrious portfolio and results. It also controlled my body, allowing it to run like clockwork.
It told me, that dreams and aspirations are for losers, and that the world only care about degrees. It told me that success is done by working hard and making sure that no one gets to the top before you. Because there is only one spot at the top.
Viru Sahastrabudhhe: “Who was the first man on the moon?”
Crowd: “Neil Armstrong, sir.”
Viru Sahastrabudhhe: “Obviously, it was Neil Armstrong. We all know it. Who was the second? Don’t waste your time, it’s not important”
Oh yeah, those two quotes from “3 idiots” perfectly described each of the factions’ agenda.
In 2013, it was the year of my mind. My parents were pushing extremely hard and so were the teachers. The only time that I had to dream started depleting, until it ran out. My trips on the buses were no longer occupied by my imagination taking me to the TomorrowLand MainStage or to a place where I could be happy. The facade that I once desired had faded into nothingness.
That’s when I became a zombie. Eat Sleep Study Repeat. I had no creativity freedom, I had no aspirations except to be the very best, and to beat that little ‘elitist’ ass in my class.
That’s when my mind started introducing hate into my life.
My mind realised that hate was the catalyst for my “The accolades only goes to the first” mindset, which helped to motivate me to ace the ‘O’ levels.
But hell, like war, it came with a unplayable cost.
The consequences was that It gave me nothing to lose.
With my imagination killed, I had nothing to desire, nothing to fear, nothing to care about. I was in the shoes of reality, and boy oh boy, it was comfortable walking through the flames of hell.
Then, I took off the shoes after my ‘O’ levels and touch the cold bare ground.
I walked straight into the wastelands of what used to be my imaginations. I had no ideas, aspirations or desires. I couldn’t set a direction of where my life will go next.
My world came crashing down to reveal the wastelands of what used to be my imagination, so did my self esteem and hope.
Without any EQ left, I had offended so many people at the start of 2014. Some of my closest friends have left me (some came back, thank you for not leaving me).
Today, the consequences still echoes in my mind. I start to think about it, and I have more time to reflect due to my longer trips back home from school.
And the mind tells me the same thing every time:
“Please stop the war”