My confessions

“You are the author of your own life story,” declares a poster in my primary six classroom, reinforced by Miss Phua’s encouragement, as well John Keating in Dead Poet’s Society. I slipped into another reverie tonight, away from the endless chattering of the PUNJ people, feeling my thoughts wandering about in a desultory fashion. Every question appearing in my mind seems to arrive at the same answerless status, and I found myself wondering once more who I am. Who am I, may I ask?

Some time ago, my zeal for friendster shot up and remained there for 3 pathetic days, before plummeting down to seemingly non-existence. I have hoped that there will be useful criticism about me, perhaps indirectly providing the solutions to the identity crisis that I somehow faced. Yet the fact that there are almost 100% positive statements provides no help. Who am I? What am I doing here? What will I be like if I have gone to ACS (I) with my 251 PSLE aggregate or other institutes? What will be my personality if my father hasn’t passed away? What will I be like if I’m wealthy? Perhaps the poster is wrong, I am not exactly the writer of my own novel…

Overtime, I have adapted myself rapidly to each new environment, enjoying the company of various types of friends. I seem amazed with my flexibility, my ability to interact with all types of people, yet in the midst of all these self-pretence and perhaps hypocriticism, I am unsure of my real and true self. I recognise my self-consciousness, and thus remain as the guy quietly tagging along, carefully observing people, gathering inspirations to write and consider, not at all wishing to get the attention, as much as I yearn to. Such irony. Is this what I’ll want to be? An insult about VS is the criticism that VS is an abbreviation of Voyeur School. A crude term indeed, but in a more metaphoric perspective, it infers a lack of actions due to the lack of courage. How much of this characterise me, on top on my apathy?

John Mayer, a talented guitarist, singer and songwriter, wrote a song titled “No Such Things” that echoed some of the hidden desires that I have. Somehow, I feel (and fear) that I’ll always remain as the silent listener and the thoughtful observer, remaining a mystery to those who thought they know me. How could they? Even I’m unsure of myself. I wrote these not to complain, but to voice out my thoughts on paper. I am a man of the written word after all, not at all of the spoken word.

This nature has caused many repercussions in my relationships with others. I have few I would consider friends, but many acquaintances. Eroded friendships seem to form a major bulk of my social life. My regrets over these never fail to overwhelm me with guilt, especially those friendships I once shared with people from my primary school. I know I am not doing enough. Even within YF (despite the countless y com meetings that I went though), I could feel myself drifting away rapidly. “I will not be missed, never be thought of, just like a ghost gliding around, transparent to the world, and yet so affected by the world. I stop.” No, I do not belong with the YF people. Where then should in go? This realisation claws at me. So, I make more acquaintances with the people from PUNJ, and that’s about it. Drowning myself in music, books, in desperation to numb myself of such endless thoughts, I know very well that I am just a loner after all.