Author has written 15 stories for Manga, General, Friendship, Horror, War, Life, Play, Fantasy, Essay, Religion, Love, and Family. Confession II When i was young, nobody believed that i was capable of penning a decent sentence. My old tuition teacher used to say, "She can write but her grammar is ATROCIOUS!" Well, let's just say until today i have neglected the pillars of English. Then, i never believed that it was an ability that i can utilize. I was always told that i had no talent. My first love was of course art. But i was not creative for that. Still not by the way. It sank in and until today, this becomes a mantra for my survival. I am always to remember that i have no talent. It is a must for me to believe in my own failure. After all, i have lived all these years expecting to die a young death that not being granted so was disappointing. Anyway, what i do cannot be counted as a talent for writing. I swallow each and everyone of the books that i read then regurgitate them. Only because the sources were various and too wide could nobody percieve that it was not my hand which held the pen. If i am to pursue a career in writing, it would be dangerous. I have no talent. My flame will die much too soon. And my art. It is a hobby which i refuse to let go. Most unfortunate my love happens to be something which i will never completely own. It will never be part of my soul. I used to think it unfair when my teachers graded me poorly for each of my essays. To me they were works of art but like they say, one man's rubbish is another's gold. Only it was i who saw what i had done was gold in comparison to the rubbish seen by others. I was dense. I was daft. I was an idiot who refused to call the world round but insisted that it was flat. Well, there is no room for denial. The world is still round. Yet, i still pursued. Stubborn mule aren't I? At the age of fourteen i signed up with a website meant for unheard of writers to upload their work and show it to the world. Name of the site was fictionpress. That, i was merely pursuing a hobby. I still worry about my art. Writing was just another way of expressing my bottled up frustration. The people were encouraging. They left reviews with constructive critism, creating an environment which encourages growth for writers-to-be. I grew. I suppose because it was a first that anybody encouraged me. They were patient and never regarded what i had written as silly or stupid. I would really have to thank the site for lending me strength. Well, now i stood on my knees, it was time for me to stand on my feet. The first person who really believed that i could write whom i knew, that is; is a very good friend of mine. Her name is Ah Bune. Over-dramatic as usual but sincere to the bone. Most would read what i had written then plaster a smile on their faces to brush the awkward atmosphere aside. I do not blame them. I am rather fragile in areas where i held my doubts strongly in a tight rein. If they were to speak their real thoughts, i would be left shattered and broken. Such kindness perhaps, i do not deserve. It takes courage to lie to an extremely close friend in comparison to a stranger. Telling the truth would have caused such tangles within the web which could easily be knotted into barbed wires. Anyway, with Ah Bune's help, i managed to stand tall, upright. She supported me when many would have died under my weight. Such strength is rare and it leaves me in awe that one can hold so much for one so little. The second person to believe that i was really capable of writing and greatly encouraged me to continue walking down the path which my mind, not to mention my hand seems keen on walking on is my form five english teacher. Well, my teacher for the first few months anyway. Mrs N not only insisted for me to move from my spot which i had sat on for countless years but pushed me forward to take my first step. That gave me strength to take another, and another. Finally, the news arrives to my family. It was actually just a casual mention. I was on my way home from the S.E.A Forensics competition on the second day when i recalled what a judge had written for Ah Bune's testimonial on her performance in Solo Acting that day. She had mentioned that the script was good. She thought the introduction was apt and complimented the script. It was actually a short paragraph. Not more than two lines but, it was recognition. I became big headed. I have to confess that my writing took a major slump for the next few weeks. Apparently, what i had said did not completely slip my mother's mind as i expected it to. I thought she would dismiss as usual that i was merely bragging. Well, i was, that much i confess. My mother insisted for me to enter a competition. The IMPAC Dublin Young Writers competition. She gave me a much harder push than Mrs N did. Even though i highly doubted i was able and my sister had to force me the night before to mail my entry, i managed to grab a consolation prize. But honestly, i was already ecstatic that i had my family's support. For the first time, i had forgotten that i had no talent. My head hung in cloud nine for days and my writing took for the worst. Seems like it has not fully recovered yet. However, the present presents a different problem. My head wishes to grow, yet my mantra is holding it back. This is an explanation to my behavior, mainly an explanation of my sadistic streak and my tendency to commit suicide. I had grown in an environment where i was regarded as worthless. It had become security for me, that mantra of mine because my world seemed stable around the chapel which i had built. Yet now, i have discovered a world beyond the borders and limits of my little kingdom. But it asks only one thing before i step through those gates; faith. The utter belief in ones own self. My strength all this while, has not been my own. If you have really read the words above, i have never taken a step in obscurity. Someone was there, always there to push me forwards. A different face each time yet they had led me to where i am now. I lack the courage to take a step towards change. Real sickening is it not? Depending on others to make your decisions for you. Do not worry, i loathe myself more than any who is disgusted by the sight of me at the moment. This is why my future is bleak. I am worthless. I have no talent. Why am i writing this? Well, just that it seems as if my brother might be taking a turn to become a writer as well. That is for the best. Healthy family competition. It is wonderful that he has the support of the family to begin with. As a sister, it is my responsibility to encourage and push him forwards as many had done for me. Yet, i have to admit that i am more than a little jealous of his position. He was always the creative one. Something that he was born with, the artistic genes. Recognition of his talents arrived seconds after he was born. I am happy that he will always have the support of his family members regardless of what he chooses. As a result of all this negative energy, i have been a little off the pass few weeks. Wait, that is perhaps an understatement. Perhaps by writing this down, it will bring some form of comfort to me. I can only ask that if i do blog this, none would take offense. Yes, i do view my life as a soap opera and the heroine of such a plot is such a spineless sissy that i can only beg for forgiveness. "I will hate myself beyond any being as there is none more evil than I." Forgive me for the depressing entry but i believe this clears plenty about myself... Yeah, i know i'm a little egoistic and stuff ^_^ Totally understand if ya hate me and all... F |