Rock, Paper, Suicide

I’m usually very free with hyperboles, but this is probably going to be the most honest post that I’ve ever written.


I think it’s reached that stage where I need to be truthful with myself, about who I am, and what I am not. After reading this post, it’s possible that some of you will have a much worse impression of me. I’m fine with that. You deserve to know who this guy in your life is. I will not mince words; in fact I’ll skip beating around the bush and just burn it down.


How long has it been? Two months or more? The last time I wrote, I was in a mess. I didn’t know what to do, where to go. Everything was crumbling around me. Right now, I haven’t really left this mess, but I’m starting to get a clearer picture of…… what’s going on, what’s happening to me. And I’m trying to make things right.

On the 28th of December, I travelled south into this new, yet strikingly familiar world. My goals were simple: Do my best, try to shine, and live life to the fullest. But was it really that simple?

I have been always a person of ambition. Sometimes I’m realistic, sometimes not. Whatever the case, these ambitions have always been something to live for. Something that added meaning to what I was doing, in this endless stream of experiences and emotions that makes life. I think the reason why goes all the way back to my childhood. Possibly during primary life. Back then, I was quite the outcast, if I may say. In a word, I was just……weird. I spoke English. I thought about things that primary kids wouldn’t give a sh*t about. I was always deep in imagination, in my own strange, fascinating little world.

Being an outcast, for a person like I am, breeds resentment. I guess that one can say that it’s still a good thing that I didn’t turn that resentment into something more destructive. Nevertheless, it drove me to want to excel. To be something, someone. I didn’t care if I was known for the good or wrong reasons; I just didn’t want to feel unimportant anymore.

That was why I enjoyed secondary life so much. Suddenly, the stuff that made me weird was treasured and appreciated. I finally had a role to play. It was addicting; I would often place priority on entering competitions and participating in extra-curricular events over academics. And why not, I asked myself. I would never be special by pursuing my studies, because there would always be people better than me. I might as well spend my time on things worth my time, no?

Receiving the scholarship was quite the morale booster to me, although I didn’t really need one at the time. Life was good as it was. Sure, I didn’t shine in everything I did like some god-like model student, but I had debate, I had public speaking, I had my own writing projects. And although there were still a number of people that had more talent, more capability than me, I was happy. I had a role, I was needed. That was enough.

Suddenly, everything changed.

I’ve always known that by coming here, I would be competing with some of the world’s best. But perhaps I didn’t prepare myself enough for the possibility that I would be taken down hard. Like I’ve mentioned before, I am a person of ambition. Therefore, I naturally tried my hardest to excel upon setting foot here. In fact, maybe I tried too hard.

And when you try too hard, you fall. Plain and simple. Debate didn’t go “right”, despite the amount of focus and commitment I put into it. Drama was indirectly affected, which led to me being relieved from all acting roles with lines. I failed in storytelling. And all this in one way or another will very possibly affect my chances in the future to try again. That is, of course, if I even had the stomach to go through it again. At a time where I was facing pressure from the ruthless Chinese scholars at my hostel in studies, they were horrible obstacles to go through. I still dread thinking of the nights where I would reach the MRT station at midnight, exhausted, defeated, and trudge the 20 minute journey home on foot.

The worst part is when you look around and see people who are actually doing well, especially the ones who too are overseas. I get so envious, so filled with resentment when I see people who just get in, settle down quickly, and start exceling and being a star from the get-go with minimal effort. One of these people, a good friend no less, once mentioned that he was disappointed he “only” got second in debate. It was a good thing it was over the web, or I might just have punched him in the face.

I think the reason why I have become so irrational and hateful is because when I lost confidence in myself, I lost my backbone altogether. That was the thing holding me up, keeping me the cheerful person that I was throughout the years – knowing that I was good at something. And suddenly, I was nothing, nobody. Just yet another ordinary school kid who will go through life like everyone else, watching the have-it-alls enjoy all the fun and glory. And I truly, truly hated that thought.

I’ve become extremely competitive. It’s reached a stage where even when I hear somebody doing well at something or other, I get extremely upset inside, like I’m losing or something. I suppose we call this, in very plain terms, “kiasu”. Maybe that’s what the infamous kiasu element of Singapore is all about: You can live without being pressured, but if you, like me, have high ambitions, you’ll almost certainly get caught up in the rat race here.

Indeed, there’s not much worse than when you start questioning yourself, when you start to really wonder what you have dreaded all along: Has this all been a dream? Have I succeeded all this while purely because I got lucky? Is it true that I was never better than anyone else in the first place? The thought of being no one again terrified me, and it brought out the worst in me. I got snappy and moody towards family and close friends. I hated the world, I hated God, I hated everything.

Why do I want to succeed so much? I’ve thought it over very often. Is it because of my childhood? Is it because I got sick of being stuck in the middle class, and wanting to ensure a future where I would no longer have to be envious of what people around me had? I realized early on that the system is designed in a way that highly rewards those who shine young, while those who don’t find it extremely difficult to break out of the mound later on. Very, very few manage to, and most of these stories are found in the west. This is Asia. Performance, especially when young, is everything. And I was really afraid that I would fall into that trap of normalcy.

Like I’ve mentioned at the top, many will feel disgusted at me for being like this. And again, I won’t argue. The whole point of this post was to be completely honest with myself and you, and I think I've achieved that. However, here’s the thing…… no matter how similar a situation to mine you may have, doesn’t make mine any easier to deal with. I used to judge people who gave up easily(to me), believing that they simply lacked the will and strength. However, after being in the situation of contemplating suicide multiple times, I realized that one can never truly understand how these people feel. For my case, I can use words like terrible, anguish, suicidal to try and describe it, but they will never really convey to you how I feel inside.

As I write this, I am constantly reminded by the empty bed behind me how dangerous feelings similar to mine can be. At this time of writing, my roommate has packed up and returned home for an indefinite period. Reason? Depression and mental breakdown caused by pressure. I’m not far off, and I desperately want to avoid it. Him leaving was a further source of agony for me, as he was basically my only form of support here left. My counterpart was forced to go home early on, leaving me the only Malaysian. Now goes the friendliest scholar of the bunch, the only I could actually rely on for help and support. Now he’s gone too. At this point, I was in a mess. Goodness knows the number of times I’ve prayed and asked aloud “Why? Just why?”

I’ve had time, though, to think all this through, and get a grip. I’m starting today, by writing this post and laying all my cards of table, revealing all that I’m keeping inside. I’ve also had the time to think whether I really wanted this “success” that I’m pursuing. At the end of the day, was it really that important to be “outstanding”? Sure, I may sound like sour grapes now, acting like I don’t want success when I can’t get it, but I’m seriously giving it thought. Is that really the be-all and end-all?

Whatever the case, I have found solace in a long-lost love: writing. Even if I don’t write as well as others, no one can take this away from me, and deny me opportunity like a competition or something. It’s just me and my work. Indeed, maybe hitting rock bottom wasn’t such a bad thing after all; maybe this was to force me to accept my place, to see that being on top didn’t mean everything. I’ll still continue to strive, but hopefully now it’ll truly be about the journey, not the outcome. And in the end, I will be able to tell myself and the world that I never failed, because I accepted, and I dealt with it.

Maybe my fighting spirit isn’t dead after all.