This will be my first informal post after such a long time of not posting anything at all on my blog. I've never used this approach here because, let's face it, it feels super weird to write informally when you're not even sure who will be reading this, if any at all! Well, at least that was what I thought. Until one surprising afternoon that I found out about one of my readers. Honestly I was surprised I even had one. Girl, you must be super lifeless to read my blog! (No offence.) But what do I know about you? I've never met you, I don't even know your name. That being said, when I heard that you could relate to my previous posts, I knew I had to write this down anyway.
So Dear No One, this is your love song.
I spent the first 7 years of my life in a small village in Penang. My grandfather was not the head of the village or anything but he was one of the richest and most influenced. He was also the one giving free English lessons to the kids (he was previously a teacher) and I topped all of his classes. I think I topped my whole village during kindergarten (we all go to the same kindergarten because really, the village was THAT small). Then at 7 years old, my grandfather sent me to an English speaking primary school which was quite far compared to another national primary school much closer to our village. I'm not mentioning all of this to elevate myself or to downgrade all my other village friends. Rather, I'd like to make a point of how privileged I was. Life was comparatively much easier. Arwah Tok Mama was a great cook, I had lots of dolls to play with and life was just real sweet.
I moved to Perak at the age of 8. I was still rocking school. First place in batch almost every year up until Standard 6. My group of friends were all among the most popular kids in school (which ultimately made ME popular) and everyone wanted to hang out with me. I was a prefect and even got the coolest task which everyone was eyeing for; the gate keeper! It was the most popular task back then because it meant I get to skip assembly every day, enter class late, greet all the teachers and be the good cop who take the names of kids who come late to school.
At the age of 12, after scoring straight A's in UPSR, I set my eyes on this particular private school. It had not one but TWO swimming pools, horse riding club, air conditioned classes... It was more than a village girl could dream of. I had refused to apply to any other boarding schools and I was hurt when my teacher told me "Don't fly so high. It'll be a long way down." Obviously in my head, I deserved that spot, more than anyone. I was smart enough, active enough and OVERLY qualified. Although grudgingly I did apply for other premier boarding schools in the country (I was forced by my mother to do so as a back up plan), I told myself I wouldn't need them.
To cut the story short, I was a girl who thought the village was the world. I did not get it into the private school. Neither did I get a reply from any of the other boarding schools. It broke my heart.
You see, this may be hard to believe but getting your heart broken is not such a big deal. Hearts get broken all the time. I'm not denying the hurt and pain that follows but I'm saying it heals. Contrarily, breaking your confidence is much more fatal. I broke my confidence that time.
Good news, I did get into that private boarding school. Plus point, I was even awarded a scholarship so I spent 5 years of high school free of charge. The bad news, I never really recovered from that incident when my confidence was broken. As an effect, I was privileged in a lot of ways, but what I saw was all the things I was lacking instead! I didn't see the few friends that stood by me through ups and downs. I saw all the times I had to eat alone at the cafe or was not included in that group photo they took. I did not see the rows upon rows of trophies I got for winning quizzes and debates. Instead I saw all the times I came last for running or swimming. I saw the fat girl with no designer bags and a British boy friend. I get hungry for attention and compliments from other people. I took each and every rejection to heart. Ultimately, I hurt myself in every possible way and I didn't even notice it. I was crying and I couldn't stop it. I hated the world. But mostly I hated myself. And there I stayed, in this stupid vicious cycle for as long as I could remember.
Throughout High School, I dated 20 boys. I wrote countless love letters and poems for other people, none of which was reciprocated. (Boys nowadays are sooo unromantic!) I didn't know what it was like to read a love letter written for me.
Then one day, through a therapy session, I wrote a love letter to myself. I wrote it on a small piece of yellow card. It became my very first love letter. And I felt.... like it was okay. Okay to not get any love letters before because even if all my exes wrote me love letters, the love letter I wrote for myself would be much much much more valuable. For the first time, I found out that I love myself. And I love myself intensely and indefinitely. And that awareness, that realisation, unlocked so many new possibilities for me. That moment when I first read my love letter out loud, I cried. That moment was priceless.
Below was what I wrote :
My feelings about me are, I am fantastic! I am beautiful, elegant, smart, thoughtful, amazing, tech, obviously priceless, and I represent myself. I will boost myself when I am down, I will remind me that there's a peaceful place I can go to when the world gets too tiring or too adventurous. I am very windy and cold, but optimum temperature, so people don't have to wear sweater but there's no use for air conditioners as well. I am safe from harm's way. I will be my own saviour. I am my safety net but I am also a booster. I will be my own home. I am where I can belong, eat fat free ice cream and act silly and I'll be okay.
It might not make sense. It didn't entirely make sense to me either. But that was okay because I wrote it with all my heart.
I know I got my confidence back the moment I took a picture with Kaka (a really pretty singer) and I posted the photo on Instagram not because Kaka was in it, but because I think I look really pretty in that photo! I didn't let Kaka be the main attention. My confidence radiated through the photo and I shone, as bright as she did. Maybe even brighter :)
I'm not sure what you will write in your letter. But I hope you find what you are looking for.
Much love,
Ikha
