Every single person who know me in school would swear on how happy go lucky I am, because they know no alternatives to me that are available as a memory in their brain. Like how every morning the sun will rise, like how every night the moon would appear – they know no other alternatives that woul subtitute their default thinking. My persona as someone who’s easy-going, jokes around, at the same time has practically nothing in their brain and pretty intelligent and well-versed was a ‘default’.
If the next morning the moon didn’t appear because of dark clouds of rain ganging up in front of it, people would still assume that it was just the weather, that it would appear the next day, that the irregularity isn’t permanent, that it will disappear. Until it’s proven otherwise. Likewise, if I were to be silent, to stop acting like the way I “am”, people would assume that my mood was just dark, that something was pissing me off, or something inherently mysogynistic as PMS. No one would assume it’s my true personality.
Sometimes your mask attached on to you like a second skin. Every morning, I wear a mask regularly like it was clothes: to not wear it, I would be stark naked in the cold, suffering… and so even though my skin are itchy from it, even though the weather is warm enough to boil me inside it, I wear it. And so because of that little habit, I am forced to bear every day. Every single day. No matter how hard it is for me to wear it, I will put it on every day.
Because I do not want to be proven otherwise.
That little habit proven unwell for me, of course – why would internalizing your feelings ever bring good things to everyone? Old scars in my thighs and my upper arm, moon marks on my palms, even nail marks on the back of my neck, all were physical evidences of my ‘second skin’. The evidences are of course not only physical. Eventually, there were long – or short – periods where I became increasingly more irritable, more prone to self-harming, more prone to dramatic crying and banging my body against a wall. These are all irregularities. Anomalies.
These periods are hard to predict and hard to endure, to me or to anyone around me that have the knowledge of my particular condition. I do not know why and when it came; it knocked on my door and slipped in, and before I could even say ‘get out’, it’s clinging against my frame like a babbling child. It’s hard to endure for me, who becomes easily aroused to rage. These are periods where I could feel murderous rage because of a silly annoyance. It’s also hard to endure for other people, who becomes my punching bag because of it. Not only that, when they knew of my little ‘habit’, they would be more worried of me in this condition rather than my normal ones: ’cause during these periods, I will close up.
It’s hard to endure for me, because, I am taken to a roller coaster I didn’t sign up to. One minute I will be giggling and laughing, making bad puns and innuendos, and the next minute I will want to snap someone’s neck. One minute someone will be so recious to me and the next I want to wring their head. It’s uncomfortable. It’s a scary experience. When I am roused to rage during these conditions, I think less about the words I say, about the things I do. It harms people. It harms me. The longer I am stuck in this period, the more I hate myself.
I don’t know how to explain this condition. I don’t know if it has a name. But I know it’s alive, that it’s a monster inside me that wakes up from its hibernation in whatever pace it wants to. And me, I’m just a civillian who wants to get up the next morning and enjoy the peace I can get.
But the monster really likes to prove that I am not just a civillian. That I am an anomaly in this system who cannot form normal, non-destructive relationships to people. That I am an irregularity, in a system that kills irregularities.
It might be I am not a civillian nor a monster. Maybe I am Schrödinger’s cat. Simultaneously dead and alive. Simultaneously a human and a monster. But who knows until someone open me up what is the truly real aspect of me?
I like to think myself as alive.
I still do not want to be proven otherwise.