Millisecond Bliss

7. A Brief Session With Introspection

I find ordinary to be quite the word. It's not supposed to mean anything bad nor is it inherently offensive, but I am yet to meet a teenager who is perfectly okay with being called ordinary. We have somehow altered the definition of ordinary such that it is now somehow indicative of a less complex or rather simplistic personality. It's safe to say that we don't consider being ordinary a compliment.

But let us step away for a second from the generation Z definition of ordinary. Even without this generational characterization, we can't escape the subjectivity of ordinary. If we're likening the word to normal, then we have to take into account what exactly normal is. Because to an affluent teenager in Singapore, normal could be being driven to school in a Mercedes SUV, whilst to a low ranking drug dealer in Brazil, normal could be finding the least conspicuous way to give his customers their supply. Frankly speaking there is no fixed normal, as normal is particular to each person. But then again, with the unpredictability of life, even for an individual the definition of normal is always shifting.

Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and inbetweeners, I've done it again. I've successfully managed to avoid processing difficult information by psychoanalyzing a simple word. My Literature teacher, while appreciative of the effort I put into understanding single words, found my talent quite hindering as she thought I used it as a tool to avoid looking at the broader picture. She was so right about that and it's not a tactic I reserve for simply just poetry.

Right now, as I'm walking down an unfamiliar sidewalk, with my hands neatly tucked into Yaris' blazer, I can't help but slip into the old habit.

Once Yaris and I were less teary, we both decided that we needed to spend some time with our thoughts. I suggested a walk would do us some good. He agreed but some restrictions had to be put in place so we wouldn't get lost or lose track of time. We weren't supposed to walk so far that the café was out of sight and we gave each other about 20 minutes to compartmentalize.

I have difficulty compartmentalizing plus my 'little' friend anxiety isn't particularly conducive toward a healthy mental evaluation.

The weather is pleasant considering that noon is nearing and we're in the middle of summer. There's barely any wind but the sun is safely hidden behind several harmless white clouds, which makes for a rather agreeable walk. Unfortunately, I have not been granted the privilege of a peaceful walk wherein I can truly appreciate the beautiful weather.

You know, it's almost poetic how your fear of disappointing your parents actually made you do shit that's probably going to disappoint them tenfold.

"I'm well aware of the massive shithole I have dug myself. Now, are you going to offer me advice or are you going to continue being the omnipresent cynic?" I ask, hoping having a conversation with the various manifestations of the inner workings of my mind will help me compartmentalize. Regrettably, this means having a conversation with the rational part of my mind which I constantly ignore.

You know you have to tell them today, it's the only way they can even come close to understanding why you ran away with Yaris today.

I sigh, "I know. Joining this little adventure was only meant to delay the inevitable, I know that."

They're going to be so mad, but you know that already and yet, that's not what terrifies you, is it?

"I can handle them being mad, but I can't handle them being disappointed in me. I'm they're only kid and they risk their lives out there every day to ensure that I have good life, and I feel like what I did was almost like me spitting in their faces and saying 'fuck you and all you've done for me my whole life isn't enough,'"

You know, them knowing won't make them care about you any less.

"I know and that just makes me feel a gazillion times worse, knowing that despite anything that I do my parents will love me unconditionally. I feel like somehow by being a shit kid, I'm exploiting their love for me rather than cherishing it. For God's sake I am their only child, if I screw up there is no one else to hold up the family name," I'm speaking aloud now, the conversation has moved beyond the scope of my mind, however no one is really paying attention to my rambling or those that may be have decided to ignore it.