Tuesday, May 23, 2017

{017}; letters to my monsters

A letter to my monsters:

i thought we had a deal. 
i thought we established the middle ground. 
but you know, don't you?
you know i am powerless against you. you know i am an easy target. you know i am weak. 
for twenty-three years, i thought you are my friend. i blinded myself from your tiny horns 
and that pointed tail of yours, 
convincing myself that you are an angel. that i was protected. you convinced me it was normal, and that i was just overthinking things. but normal people don't have monsters shadowing them around, 
waiting for a weak moment to strike.

i thought we had a deal:
my family will be spared from this agony you put me through.

23;

———

the only way out is down.

depression is  term used to generalise and categorise 
the abnormality of one's brain.
perhaps too generalised.

it took me years to finally admit that i am sick.
a sickness that has no cure.
a silent sickness that is killing me slowly.

i wish healing is as easy as i was told:
  • think happy thoughts
  • meditate
  • do what makes you happy
  • forget about it
  • it's not like that, and you know it
  • you are just a bit discomforted

repression. repression. repression ;

you are not sick. you are not sick. you are not sick.

you are ok. you are ok. you are ok.

maybe i'm not sick. maybe i'm just slightly unhappy. 
maybe i am just emotional. maybe it's nothing.

maybe if i just disappear for a little while, 
every thing and everyone around me will be better.
you see, i don't want to die.
because dying would disappoint my family even more.
and i don't want to do that.

its like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, 
and the only way out is down.

the longer i stand here, 
the more pain i have to endure.
the more convincing it is to end,
to be selfish for a greater good.
a better life for everyone.

i don't want to jump, obviously,
because my greatest fear is to not disappoint my family.
my death would broke my grandparents’ hearts.
my mother would be sad.
my father would blame it on himself.

but after a while, 
they will move on.
and they will finally see
the sacrifices i've made.
and that their lives will be 
better,
without a liability.
without me.

why can't they see that?

death would be easy for me,
but painful for my family,
who loved me unconditionally.
it's not their fault.
it's not their fault.
they did the best they could,
raising this ungratefully pathetic disappointment.
and i am truly sorry to waste your love.

23;

-----------

i cut because at least
    physical pain is 
    explainable.

i punch the wall because 
    my hands would be 
    too shaky 
    from the pain to even
    lift the blade.

you can pinpoint exactly 
    where the physical pain is.
 - my knuckles are aching.
 - my wrists are bleeding.
 - i hurt my thighs.

physical pain is way easier to cure.
    and is visible, too.
    people can see you are in pain.

most importantly,
    it is easier to admit that i am 
    (physically) sick.

23;

------

its been two months.
i wanted to say how much i missed you,
but i do not.

when i started to love myself again,
smile at all the brighter things in life,
you came along and rained on my parade.

you greeted me like an old friend,
while holding a knife to my throat.
hello, how have you been.
happy.
well, now you know what its like to be normal,
but i am back now.
i am back to tell you your happiness would not last.
your happiness is an illusion.
pain is the ugly truth of the world, 
and you will drown in it.
there is no way out.
you already fell off the cliff.
why bother climbing up when you know, 
deep in your heart,
that you would jump again.

stay with me,
my sad little scary mind.

stay with me and fight this battle
against no one
but
yourself.

23;


----------

yes, i am one of those people who is currently battling with mental illness.
i have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder II, which is when depression is my main phase. 
its a battle between me and my two monsters,
and i have this tiny hope that i might win.
or at least compromise with my two monsters.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

{016}; L’appel du vide.






I wish I have Acrophobia, the fear of heights and high places. I thought I was afraid of heights. I thought I overcame the fear when I’ve discovered the beauty of bird’s-eye-view and the panoramic view from the top of a tall building.

I cannot be more wrong.

After a couple of encounters of high places and its panoramic view, I’ve come to a conclusion on why I thought I have Acrophobia.

I am not afraid of heights, I am afraid of myself.

Have you ever been on the rooftop and decided to throw something down just for the sake of it?
When I was younger, we used to have a room of the top of a building in Pattaya where our family would go there for a relaxing family trip once in a while. The room was on the 23rd floor of this very chic condominium and every room has its own balcony for residents to enjoy the beach view.
When we first brought the room, everyone was very happy about it. When I first got there, I was very hyped about the sea view. I went straight to the balcony and look out into the horizon. The sun was setting and everything was yellow, orange, and with a little touch of pink. When the sun went down, there is nothing more to see other than the night sky and what is below us. When I look down, I remember seeing houses and cars and people walking under the street lamps. Everything seemed so quiet up here and the night have made it even more peaceful.
Then my mind started to do this usually weird thing where I know I am not going to, but I could.
I could jump.
It’s like something is pulling me to go closer to the ground, and a major part of my mind thinks it’s a great idea to climb the balcony to get a closer look at what is below us.
I don’t really recall what happened next, but the balcony has been sealed shut by my grandpa from that day onward until the day we’ve decided to sell the room. No one is allowed onto the balcony ever again, not even my parents.
My mother thinks I’m suicidal and she blames herself for not raising me well enough.
I’ve tried explaining to her that I was not going to jump, and I didn’t have the thought of ending my life. I just want a closer look at what is there on the streets.
Although there is an urge to jump, but that’s not because I am not happy with my life.

It’s not the height I’m afraid of, it’s my mind answering to the call of the void.

I believe we all have our fair share of this experience where we could, but we are not going to. We could throw whatever it is in our hands into the void, but we are not going in. I could just take one big step to answer to call, but I am not going to.

When we are young, our superegos are still learning what should and should not surpass from our id. The boarder line between these two territories is still a blur.
Even when I am 22 years old with a basic knowledge of physiology and Freud’s Psychoanalysis theory, the temptation of the void gets me every single time.

I think that explains a lot about who I am as a failed human being. Of everything I am scared of, my very own mind is still on the top of the list. My mind has this build in bug for self destruct. I like to think that the bug was buried deep down in the pit of my id, but it seems like my super ego just failed to do what it’s suppose to do when I am confronted with the call of the void.

I think that’s the reason why my subconscious decided to push the thought as Acrophobia in order to prevent any confrontation with the void. I know I am not going to jump, but I never know when that would change. I fear that, when I am on the ledge, there might be a time when my conscious is the one answering to the call, and I would self destruct.

I might have underestimated that self-destruct bug I have in my mind. It’s just that my conscious and my superego is doing a great job preventing it from being temped to being suicidal. We have been through a lot to get from there to here.

I’ve tried repressing dangerous and self destructive thoughts, but my id is like a vault rather than an bottom-less void.

There would come a time where I’d have to decide if I would answer the call or walk away, and it is terrifying that I might hesitate.

Wednesday, June 03, 2015

{015}; Here, There, and nowhere.


Where will we go from here?
How would I know.

Where are we heading?
I would love to know, too.

Is there an end game for all of this?
I have no idea.

There are hundreds of unanswered questions during the four years of Bachelor degree, and that multiplied like blood cells after graduation. It's startling, and also daunting, to be leaving school; the only place where our identity can manifest fully. In the real world ahead, we have to conform ourselves to the society above us. I've had a fair share of that myself due to some experience working part-time/freelance.

I used to hate the society I am living in. I hated the way people interact with each other, and how they depend their whole lives on the collective identity based on the imagined community. I hated that people refer to themselves as a collective individuals rather than their individual self.

Collective, collective, collective. We, Us, Ours. Them, Theirs, You People. Kill, War, Genocide.

Then, what am I without the society? What is the society with out people? It's undeniable that I, too, am a part of the society I loath. There is no escape, and we are all trapped here together. I cannot escape my nationality. I can pretend like I am not a part of all this, but at the end of the day, this society is inescapable.

People around me called me an ungrateful little shit.

But what is there to be grateful for? My family worked my ass off to earn this place in the society, yet I have to be grateful for something that does not exist, rather than being thankful for my family and their hard work? I don't understand, and I might be better off that way.

Now that you are very sceptical about me, lets get to know each other once again.
I've realised that I haven't had a proper self introduction yet. So here it is.

My mother gave birth to her first child, me, on the 1st of September, 1993, making me the first grandchildren of my grandparents before my brother was born four years later. Disobeying the traditional Thai belief that the child has to be named by a respectful monk in order to have a prosperous life in the future, my grandfather named me himself after an angel in heaven.

I’m basically the girl version of Raphael in Thailand’s Buddhism context. Actually, I’m more like Lucifer, but that is not the point.

The name is Rata, by the way.
It’s a name of a red flower in Māori (Metrosideros fulgens), and it’s a kind of rodent in Spanish (La Rata).

My grandpa didn’t expect me to take Spanish in college, so yeah. Apparently, it has quite a good meaning in New Zealand, a place I’ve spent some time in while i was growing up. I was too young to remember the details, but I remember it being awesome.




In the year 2000, my mother moved me to a British international school (St. Stephen’s International School BKK), and I stayed there for ten full years. During my ten years in the school, I’ve never thought the British accent was sophisticating at all. On the contrary, I tried my best to imitate different American accents from films and other medias. I’ve never actually look up to the British culture I grew up with while I was in school. I used to joke around about how the teachers are not making sense when they speak with a British accent, let alone northern accents.

Oh, how the table have turned.

After leaving school to undergrads, I then realised how sophisticated everything was in school. All the tea time, the way we are taught to hold ourselves, the language we use, and so on so forth. College is a wild place, and our school was a school for richer kids. I’ve never thought of myself as a snob, but I have to admit that I was. I am truly sorry. Our school was very small, therefore I don’t usually meet new people much.

I think it was during the iGCSE period (Year 10? I think so…) that I’ve realised that I can not do math. The core Math course was too hard for me to do, and I was thankful to every gods in the world that I’ve received a C for that. My brother, on the other hand, is a mathematic genius. This is not a gender/sex thing, it’s just that I wanted to be less like my brother, and more like myself. So that’s why I seek out a different path. I am also a bit of a rebel, and I want to prove to my parents that I can get by without being good at math because, in real life outside the text book land, there are these little thing called calculators, and it’s every offing where.

So I stop. I stop doing math completely. I cannot find x. After iGCSE, I’ve decided that math and I are over. I’ve chosen Literature simply because I thought I would be better off writing an essay than solving someone else’s problem.

I’ve found my way of life.

There was a gigantic fight four years ago between me and my whole family because I was seeking an alternative path. I understand them completely, but they also have to understand the fact that it is my future, and not theirs.

Will my life be easier if I’ve taken a business course rather than a Liberal Art major? Maybe. It’ll sure be less complicated, with less philosophical questions where the answer is another question. I wouldn’t care so much about gender equality, nor the fact that people are inhumane to the point that they might as well be the new Hitler of the 2000s. I might not have a critical opinion like I am now. I might see the world differently. Liberal Arts is a degree where you need to use what you’ve learnt and reflect it upon yourself, and the people around you. It’s the tip of the ice burg I want to remain on. Seriously, I would not want people unleashing what is below my superego. It’s too dark for the society to handle.

I see people being all literate on the internet, calling other people stupid and ignorance, when they, too, is illiterate as fuck. I am sorry, but there is a balance of being selfish, and being a member of the overall society. I simply do not understand why the people around me think that the bigger picture is not important. A nation cannot exist on its own, and therefore we should consider the world as one nation, regardless of our differences. Aren't we all the population of the world? Why only care about your/our people without giving two shits about the rest of the world?
Liberal people trying to be free of all identity boarders. Illiterate people wants something to hold onto to feel like they belong in the little community they are in, and that makes it easier for the hegemonic group to interpellate them with the imagined community ideology, making them unreasonable robots (no offence to robots).

You see, most people in the country were taught, since birth, to not ask question.
At home, it’s annoying for kids to ask questions simply because the parents does not know the answer as well.
At school, if the student ask questions, the student is viewed as not paying attention, and therefore will get their points deducted. Seriously, the teacher does not make any sense, but due to the ego and the cockiness of the teacher, we are not allow to not understand them. Shitty, I know.
We can not question religion, nor any practice leading towards religion. Let us not get into that real deep, or this entry might gain a lot of hate from the supernatural believers, and they might send me rape threats. Oh, I am not overreacting. Welcome to Thailand.

You are going to regret being outwardly critical in this place, especially if you are a radical feminist. Rape threats on all your houses.

This entry is going to go on forever.

Let’s end this right here, shall we?

I want to conclude this with a more positive note. I am not a hateful bitch who criticise everything, but I’m the bitch that believe in equality in its different forms, and in factual arguments. To me, religion is irrational and can not be proven. It’s one man’s word against physical evidences from sciences. Let me quote my friend here:

“But isn't it funny? a person who believes in something no one else does is considered a maniac but if a group of people believe in the same thing, it's religion?”

It is hilarious, but it’s the joke that might get us killed.

The four years in a Liberal Arts school taught me not to associate myself with people who does not see human being as equals. hey are not stupid, oh no. They are just people with too much insecurities that everything is threatening. What a shame.

After all, as I’ve mentioned above, I am a part of the society I loath, and it’s my responsibility as well to make this a better place for myself and everyone in it. Why? you might ask. Well, I may be a selfish motherfucker, but I am a selfish motherfuck that lives in this society. Thailand is my home, no matter if the people are culturally illiterate as fuck, it is still my home.

Liberal feminism seek to educate.
Dear god of feminism, please give me the strength not to kill people.

With hope at last,
Rata Pengmesri


PS: Please don’t send me rape threats. I might be a free-wheeling bisexual, but I am also asexual … except if you are Aaron Johnson, then please.