stories and memories

Published July 15, 2009 by crystalights


eversince i could remember, i’ve always been attached and surrounded with books. and that was since back then when i have yet to learn how to recognize words and sentences.

when i was little i was criticized for not being able to read. it was at my mother’s family house, where there’s volumes of encyclopedias and illustrated books. it happened when i was browsing through the pages and looking at the pictures and then suddenly he came and told me off, of the fact that i am illiterate. i didn’t move from that spot by that table. it’s like i froze. literally. i knew that i wasn’t exactly the favourite grandchild, but being told off that way when you were only a kindergarten kid really left a mark in my head.

so after i finally learnt how to read, it’s like i couldn’t stop reading. it was like an obsession of some sort.

it was like redemption.

like that one thing that i so desperately clung to, just to prove that i am not incapable.

growing up with books and entering the school’s writing / storytelling / quizzes / elocution competitions,  and submitting pieces for contests in the national papers as well as magazines, was what i was set on doing at that time. it was as if i grew up with a vengeance. that, fueled with my parent’s incessant pushing and psychological drive, really made my childhood days become truly filled with going all out for even the slightest thing.

it was fun in a way, but after a while it gets a bit tiring.

i remember being so young and so emotionally driven and so damn ambitious, and it kinda continued until my secondary years and until i finished school.

i did what i can in school, but somehow i was left feeling like it isn’t even close to enough.

nothing is ever enough. not when you’re always out to prove something to people.

it was like a vicious circle.


so now that i am old enough and have finally got through those crazy days, i often tell myslf that whatever i want to do and whatever i wish to do must not be because of how anyone’s influencing me, or because of wanting to prove anything to anyone around me. it should be because of what and how i truly wish it to be. it should be because of what i feel it should be.


and once in a while i do realize, that the people that i don’t really get along well with, are the people who always have something to prove [ especially in the thngs that they do ].

it’s like an itching quality that i find to be rather irksome.

i don’t know why i get rather turned off by such people when in fact, i was once like that too, when i was in my younger years [ not that i’m that old, but twenty-two isn’t that young anymore ].


and well, i do feel sorry for feeling that way about those people. because i know that it’s not that there’s anythng so darn wrong with them, it’s jst that there’s somethng that’s wrong with me.


it’s personal, myself and i

we got some straightening out to do



and so sometimes it’s not that easy for me in thngs that may be easy for some people.

because we all have our own stories, our own scars and our own memories ♣


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