Bro: I think everyone who is emo is gay.
Bro: *makes slashing motions at his wrist*
And my one moment of weakness. I looked at my wrists.
They're still there you know. The first one I think will never go (it's been there for two years) and the other one is healing. And I then got flashbacks and felt slightly sick.
I don't know much about how people live here in Singapore (boarders particularly). In the sense, they're quite different from the people I used to know. We...I think we weren't even human when we were in that school. We hurt people, they hurt us. We pushed, we pulled. It was the most dysfunctional school I ever knew. Racism was rift, religious issues widespread, malicious intent was everywhere. Sometimes I think you hurt people for fun.
On my first week of school, I saw a guy bash a girl's head with his bag.
On my first term of school, I watched a girl take fourteen painkillers and NOT die. (which was amazing)
I was hit on. By my roommate.
I saw her smoke. I helped her smoke in my room.
Drugs, alcohol, we lived in our own underworld where no one/ nothing from the outside world could touch us. I think we believed we were invicible.
I saw people contemplate suicide, saw people with marks all over their body. I saw destruction, devotion, madness really.
On my first term of school, I was abandoned. And then I collapsed.
I spent the majority of my year wondering where I went wrong. Then I gave up.
On my second year of school, I was sent to couselling. My mom told me, "There must be some reason why you don't have any friends. Something must be wrong with you."
I hated my mom so much in that moment.
I think it's more of a coming full circle really, when I looked at my scars. They're not important anymore. One was already fading. The other one...I think that one will remain for the rest of my life. It's not depressing. I think I appreciate that scar. It's...important.