The century post I’ve been anticipating suddenly seem so irrelevant and in a way, tiny to the magnitude of what I really wish to summarize in a thousand words (a word limit which I would conveniently ignore). Perhaps it’s irrelevant because no one really cares about a century worth of posts (like dude, I post so infrequently it’s like all dust and cobwebs in here), but the enormous effort in trying to look at 2 and a half years worth of nonsensical, gibberish and wordy blog posts definitely is not something you look forward to. Almost felt like I just revisited every single day of my life from day one, with the ghosts of past memories constant washing over me wave after wave.

Above all other things, reading all hundred posts in a day showed me how people changed so drastically over time. I realized is just how vastly different I am from who I was back in upper secondary, so much so that I cannot recognize myself in writing. A hundred posts over 30 months somehow translated into an autobiography documenting the person I was, like a priceless collection of heart imprints that archived my journey through life and my changing perspectives and personality.

Yet I can’t say I actually comprehend and value all my previous posts, especially the earlier ones. There were some so grossly written and vulgar that the person I am now couldn’t last reading a word of it, or some so desperate in nature it’s quite sad how I used to post crap out of nowhere. In another words, there was this ignorant 15 year old rebel, trying his hands in the art of recreational writing and making a brilliant mess out of it. I might be lousy with a pen then, but I find myself totally unable to relate myself to anything I’ve written before I was 16. The personalities involved just seemed so foreign, even though the events and dates are still fresh memories embedded at the back of my head. In other words, I cannot believe that person I once was 2 years back.

Over time, of course, the posts made more sense as I see myself transforming into the person I am today. I know the way I sometimes see myself from a 3rd person perspective is kind of disturbing, but it provided such incredible insights into such a broad scope of issues that it has became habitual. As such, I cannot help but question the person I once was before JC, before 16, even before I started this blog, the wrongs I committed and the characters I sorely lacked.


Strange isn’t it, how I come here only to criticise myself with such thorough vigor.


There IS this one post, however, that stood apart from the rest. A single post, a single event that ultimately became the turning point of everything I was, and in some ways explained the origins of this humble ranting web space. It was 8th of August a year back when I posted the longest post of my life, one which I thought was an honest and truly personal account of the lowest moment in all of my seventeen years. One which I thought was THE perfect conclusion to my darkest time at Raffles.

Yet a year later, I finally realized just how extraordinarily immature and wrong I was. I left behind not simply an epic account of events, but a blur frenzy of facts, opinions and half-truths that were never justified. Truths were told, yes, but truths were manipulated as well. What I left behind, therefore, was a slew of controversy and misunderstanding.

I guess it’s about time I address that post and finally bring an end to this chapter of my life.

***

I don’t need to reiterate what I have said before. The time from Sec 2 to 3 was, beyond anything, hell. That much was confirmed.

But no one quite understood what hell meant. If anything, it does sound like a shout out from the typical emo puck kid screaming “MY LIFE SUCKS” every 2 seconds, but no, I lived in a different kind of hell. It’s the type you don’t ever allow it to show itself in your life, but unleash when no one’s around. The problems were real enough, alright: disjointed family, past feuds, failing grades, a lack of Christian faith, and an attitude that stank like rotten poultry. The hockey fiasco took center stage, of course. And each night, before I slip into the next day, the whole situation plays itself in front of me. I was re-living hell every night then, yet the more I dwell on it, the more I pretend I’m alright. I was laughing like an idiot and living like life is all so carefree, but only God knows just how much of a big fat liar I am.

At the end of Secondary 2, I guess a sense of desperation set in. I left hockey and 2H, found a new class, a new CCA, only for a new set of problems to replace freshly disposed ones. Scars from the past always have a tendency to cut open itself again, and it happened more than once in Secondary 3. I was in a much better place already, but my heart was still left in a state of dump.

In that context, I was thoroughly in a wrecked, depressed state I didn’t dare share with anyone. I can’t exactly diagnose myself with depression of course, but here’s what I definitely am sure of: I contemplated suicide in my Secondary 3 year.

My parents flared up that night, and I was at my limit. My double life was taking its toll on me, grades didn’t improve, and the idiots from my past don’t know how to leave people alone. That night I locked up my room and left the window grills opened the whole time till morning. Didn’t exactly catch any sleep actually, all I remembered was that I prayed in a really long time, and there were tears. Don’t quite want to reenact the rest of that day here; it’s painful just thinking about it.

There were also ideas of “backpacking” actually. My mom did that the year before, disappeared for 2 whole weeks after another family drama situation before dropping back into our lives again. But jumping off a building sounded easier to me actually (I don’t know, it just is). Obviously I thought better, and I guess things changed after that, changed in ways I wish I could put into words. All I knew was, from then on, everything got better, and I know that God made it happen.

This blog was a result of an emotionally detached 15 year old, and through the course of its 2 and ½ years, it was the only source of motivation I had. In my moments of depression, with ideas of suicide overriding my thoughts, surfacing over and over again, this place was my only source of attachment to reality, my only house of solace. It's like the only avenue I could actually talk to God, and it is as such that I will remember and attempt to reach out to Him through this place again.

The post on 7th August 2008 was a conclusion to the problems that plagued me for 2 years, and a further hesitation on my part for another year before I finally wrote it down last year. That post, beyond anything, helped me to move on.

But we all know the post was flawed. I was naive, no doubt, far too harsh and self-centered with my words. What needs to be correct will be corrected. Before I can fully conclude my story, I guess there’s a need to apologize. Apologize for all the people didn’t mean to involve in my outburst, apologize for giving in to the bitchy and selfish nature. I wasn’t perfect, obviously, so to say that my time in hockey didn’t do justice to me wasn’t the whole picture. I didn’t do justice to hockey as well. I was 14, growing up, running in and out of my life between school and family. I was stupid alright, going so far as to mull over death and lock myself in a prison of my own making.

Sure, it was a prison I created out of my own failings and depression, so in that sense I had no one to blame for my state of disillusion. Yet it doesn’t change anything that has happened in those 2 years, thus I out rightly blamed my hell to the ongoing circumstances in my life. It’s downright irresponsible and convenient, I know, but please pardon this boy who didn’t know what to do with his life then.

To everyone else, I apologize. To God, I seek forgiveness. This post is where I mark my confessions, and there’s probably no such thing as a concluding timeline where my past mistakes will be deem irrelevant. But I try, Lord, I try.

***

I have always argued that I don’t actually emo anymore nowadays. The real, emotionally wrecked me was a person of the past, his scars and frustration hidden beneath a sea of profanities, paragraphs and badly written posts. Now, I see myself as a person with nothing to hide, and this blog is my testimony to that statement. Beyond anything, I cannot be in a better place than I am now, and I thank God for this. It’s been 2 and half years since then, and I’ve definitely changed.

And change I will, hopefully for the better, until the day this blog cease to exist anymore.