Legacy

"Is this the will that Grandpa wanted for us? For me? I have received it..."

A familiar tint of amethyst above us... Above me. It's just too familiar. It ain't the first time I've seen this. My 'awakening' naturally rose from within me. I felt a sense of endeavor... and of courage. Maybe it was time when two of me finally integrate as one... Maybe my flaws and baneful sins are differentiated from the reasons for my resolve. Either way, I shall forever salute my respect to my grandfather:. I hope my father can and will success his legacy. I certainly hope my father and aunt will never dispute over minute inheritances. What is money? How does its value surpass our kins? How is it even important when the cash-loaded person is dead? Death is a black flame on a person's money which scorches him when he touches it. I'm sure... No... I assure my grandfather understood that life is more powerful than money... Resolve empowers, not wealth. I don't think I met my father more than... thrice. I can vaguely recall when he came to attend my uncle's funeral. He was very depressed, but could still manage a smile and persevere and move on rather than see otherwise and give up in life. I respect him for that... I was still a very young child. I think I was only 6 years old when I met him once. Then the second time was on this year; last month, my father brought us to pay him a visit after learning about his tumor. His voice was almost destroyed. As he speak, I heard the crackling gurgles from within his throat. He was in pain. My younger brother was like a hopelessly geeky moron hoping to return home as soon as possible to play his goddamn "Team Fortress 2" with friends. My father tried hard to find ways of comforting grandpa and bringing up conversations and stuff... My mother sat beside me, cautiously watching over ME so as to silence me, when whatever I say seems wrong and sinful in her eyes and ears. My elder brother was indifferent; he sat there silently, daydreaming of some things I cannot comprehend. I stuck to my conventional style of observing the setting, atmosphere and situation of then... My grandpa lived in a government-subsidized one-room flat. He was poor, and had to rely heavily on medication to soothe and deaden the pain. Occasionally he brewed traditional Chinese medicine which could cure his 'chi'. He looked a lot like my own father with the exception of their noses: My father had a pointy nose, while my grandpa had a flatter nose. Ironically, my father's nose was pointed and he once told us that people who lie WILL have pointy noses, which really contradicts his self-acclaimed integrity. Whereas he said my grandpa was a heavy gambler and uneducated man who lost his wealth due to a big-time business con; HE COULDN'T READ! The third time was also my last... I met my grandpa in hospital, where he personally invited me and my aunts in. My mother and younger brother had to wait outside. He spoke in Hokkien in an almost-incomprehensible voice. Obviously I couldn't fathom it; it was fortunate of me that my aunts understood my inability to understand Hokkien and thus translated whatever he said to me. According to my aunt... He told me that I seem to be the more, or most(I can't remember) confident youth among us, his grandchildren. He said I remind him of my late-uncle. Then he went on saying many stuffs he find hilarious... Until when it came to... "Unlike your uncle, you have EDUCATION. Use this as an opportunity and not a setback. Your uncle had not the opportunity for a proper education. I hope you cherish what you have now and not regret losing it later..." The grief wasn't as painful to me as my father and aunts. I met him only thrice. I barely heard of his name, but it wasn't grief; it was guilt. Guilt had shrouded my past sins. Why had I never considered how my father felt whenever I did something foolish? Why had I never thought of how my parents would feel before I did them disappointment? The 'awakening' is still in me. I see it not just as a potential; I see it as myself. My grandpa left us... He left my father and aunts insurance claims... I think. He also left me with his legacy; The will of Will. His will that my will will never falter. His last wishes that I will never waver. His hopes that I will fight until the very end. I have received it. I have accepted it. I will not disappoint you too, grandpa. You can watch over me in Heaven, for I promise(for real) that I will never fail you. Your legacy shall never be forgotten. I promise.

"Acception, Affiliation."

Fruitful Hours

"Fruit" doesn't necessary mean those edible stuff that we pick from trees which come in many different colors, shapes and sizes. A fruit can be sweet. A fruit can also be bitter. In literal terms, 'fruit' can refer to how our efforts have not been to no avail.

"The back-breaking and sweat-raining days of a farmer bears him fruit. Fruitful labor."

I can sense the momentum. My efforts to put in 110%. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth. Back and I finish my assignments on time. Forth and I feel more and more prepared to face the decisive test for my own future. Maybe even the test which will determine whether or not I can get back straight on my feets. The three-weeks of tension and unease. This three weeks of mental preparation for the inevitable. The next three weeks of straining our fingers till the very end; whether we finish these tests in one piece, or shall we go back home with broken fingers or finger cancer, our resolve shall determine it all. I shall, and repeat shall, return safely. Just as how I never break my promise and not give up till either one falls. I will never throw myself on the blade. I shall fight on. I am not afraid. I had to. I had to sacrifice my id for this time. No more foolish games for this period of time. No more Facebook and 'stalking' friends. No more complacent lunchbreaks for the sake of pleasure. I shall not succumb to any forms of immature pleasure, like playing lifeless video games, playing feet-shattering basketball matches and ruthlessly unpleasant jokes in class. I shall also leave the jokers fall for their own jokes. I shall leave the 'emo' losers break themselves. I shall let those immature and insensitive nerds who play "team fortress 2" get themselves killed by the demo guy. I shall let the basketball hardcore-players risk their limbs and finally risk their future. After all, I have no rights as their friend to be helping them get back up on their feets. I have no rights to interfere with another person's life and say, "You have a problem." I am in no position to bless nor mess their lives. I am human and I have feelings. But there is a difference between gaining sympathy and gaining compassion. Recalling my soft-hearted experiences back then, I shall tell myself to show neither... Okay, maybe the former. But NEVER will I show compassion to people who fail to even try to get themselves back to their feets. Here... These days... I am helping this other girl from my class. I am sort of... empowering her with whatever I am capable of to help her get to her course by excelling in her 'O's. I am not showing sympathy nor compassion. I am only doing so to repay the debt; I owe her. Ever since I was shown sympathy and had a different reaction fro the conventional "taken for granted" of average people, I understood that there are two types of people in this world: One would show sympathy to a beggar by donating a few loose change. The other would have the guts to help that beggar get back on his feets. This girl... is the latter. Since Secondary Three... Anyways, I shall end my post here. My mind's still unchanged since yesterday's post... Ever since that voice...

Bildungsroman

"Praise the protagonist. Agitate the antagonist. Screw the character foil."

There are two kinds of teenagers in the world of school: One changes with his or her environment and matures with a whole new level of mindset, and the other are perfect examples of "Easy Come, Easy Go". Many of us have changed physically and mentally. Some of us feel proud of this change. It is called "maturing". While others grief over the natural process of "maturing", since they would prefer dwelling upon their pasts and regretting the courses they have taken in this four years. Ever heard of the difference between a "round" and a "flat" character? In every story exists at least one of each. In my storybook?... Well... It is stained in an array of wonderful colors bright and dull. Red, yellow, blue, gren, orange, black, white... Especially purple(I don't know why either...). I remember back in those days when I, as a early-stage puberty-stricked youngster, strived to slim down, buckle up and work hard. Yes, that was how I initially wanted. In Secondary 1, I always wished I was a superhero like Superman or Green Lantern or Hancock and could fly and save people. That way I need not work so hard in school just to pursue a career and suffer life. That time, I befriended a wild bunch of baboons and introverted packs of Halo-gens(Hardcore fans of Halo). I could remember losing contact with my primary school friends for the entire year... My mind was heavily influenced by them. My life was also surrounded by people who only cracked and laughed at sexual jokes. My life dulled when my satires were purposely ignored by them. They did not see me as a joker. They never saw me as an intelligent person. Their impressions of me was: The party pooper. Those impressions sounded more like curses, actually. Obviously they wanted to pick on me. Yet I bore no grudge against them. Rather, I thank them for being part of my life; part of my Bildungsroman. Then came Secondary 2, when I befriended a few lifeless nerds out of casualty-I mean, casually. You see... One of them was Jacky. He was a jerk, but was also a fun guy to hang out with. We cracked silly slapsticks and homework-trolling humor in class. He also laughed at sexual jokes frequently, but I never did. We were only indifferent in the extent of annoying this guy(also our friend) and making fun of him and enjoying the three of us altogether. On the same year, I also managed to regain contact with my primary school friends. Not just three, but a lot more than that. This chapter, however, was a dull one. Jacky was never a person to succumb to influence, for he loved to ruin people emotionally. For instance, there was once when he made fun of me after I had contact with this girl from my Primary School, claiming that I was keeping a secret relationship from him. He screwed me up back then... As of now, I don't really hate him anymore. Instead I had decided to 'bury the hatchet', 'forgive and forget'. He also played a part in my Bildungsroman. Secondary 3 was perhaps a time in my life where everything had come to a turn of nature. Everything darkened just like how the sun sets and the moon forwarding its legacy to begin its dictatorship upon me. I was stricken by misery. Jacky, my once-dependable friend, had turned himself into bad company. I had troubles trying to prevent a bunch of lifeless nerds from entering my life. These bunch of losers are said to 'worship' me, I don't know why either. Perhaps they see me as a popular guy in school, much as how we have to respect our principal. I had to walk the dark path of a Lone Wolf. My friend(the girl whom I met and befriended since Primary 5) had misunderstood my intentions of wishing her happiness in her birthday and thus we never met anymore. I was emotionally strained. My blade lost its affinity. My senses dimmed. I lost my livelihood. I lost my capability to joke. I failed many examinations. I was called up to be counselled. I made my Primary School friend worry despite he having his own troubles at hand. This chapter in my storybook is so dull that I could only see black and white in every page of it. That is yet another part in my Bildungsroman. I thank everyone who intentionally wanted to ruin my life. I failed to go acording to your plans. I am truly sorry your plans to cripple me failed, because I have decided to move on in life. Secondary Four. This year. That one year in our life which will determine what we have done to prepare for our futures. Which will determine how much can we be in favor of the government. Who are those among us who are talented. There was no room for fun anymore, considering how much time we have left that will determine the rest of our lives. I had to struggle between getting back to my feets and revising. Torturous if you can put yourselves in my shoes. The T&F relay competition... The studies and remedials... The efforts I had put in which returned me back to myself. The hard work I had placed in order to achieve my goals... The encouragement from the people I met in my life... The resolve fixed upon me to regain what I had lost... The neverdying belief that one day I will reunite with the girl whom I wronged by giving her that pendant... I will not, and repeat not, give up. I will fight till the end. I will cross the horizon. Ever since the graduation Ceremony was over, I slowly reflect upon how many times I told myself to persevere, and I did. New friends and new enemies. New mentors and new rivals. New chapters and new dreams. I shall not this Bildungsroman disappear. 'O'Levels, here I come! Even up till now... I could remember all of those dreams I had in the past. Even now. Back then I also had dreams of the same setting. All about surviving and flying. In one of them: I was flying in the sky. There were streams of alpine mountains below me.. There were lakes of lush green grassland below me.. In front of me was a beautiful sunset which shone at me and waved a ray of majesty at me. Recurring voices of some of the people I was close to echoed in my mind: "I believe in you." Then I descended from my heights and landed softly on the patch of grass. The southern winds of Winter pressed softly on me. I felt comforted and reassured, I believe I can do it. It could be a truth... Yet it could be a lie... My heart. It echoes of a soft and mellow feminine voice from my Primary School friend(girl). The same message as in my dream. I will survive. I will find the path of success- No, I will FORGE the path of success. In this three remaining weeks, I shall use it. My Four Tools of the Legend: Confidence, Perseverence, Instinct and Emotions. Wei Min... If you ever read this, or even visit my blog at any point of time... I sincerely want to tell you this: I am sorry. I made a rash decision that may have left you in suffering or in grief. Even I feel that way too. But know this: I have never forgotten you. I have never resented crossing paths with you. I actually feel very happy to have met you. You inspired me not to give up. You inspired self-esteem in me. That I am grateful and... well... Just remember I owe you one, okay? I am truly sorry...