Thursday, April 02, 2009

My Obnoxious Dissatisfaction

Valentino enjoys walking down the glittery paths outside Amara Hotel. The little shiny stars on the floor that makes one feel like he or she is walking down the Hall of Fame.

It's April! He loves this month, and hates it at the same time. Your 21st is around the corner, and as the date draws close he can't help but think about you. He hadn't seen you for quite a while, wondering if you're okay. Then out of the blue, he spotted you sitting along one of the benches today at the AS1-AS6 walkway. He succumbed to the urge to tap your shoulder and say hi. But then a flash of imagination in which you looked disapprovingly, said hi out of formality, and return back to your work hurridly to avoid further conversation zoomed past his head. He paused, and his hand stopped short. Pulling back quickly in case someone noticed the awkwardness, his hand curled expertly to toss his hair, smiled towards the front, and kept on walking. His damned pride still can't take a rejection.





When he was very young, he used to be laughed at for stammering. Angry, he asked God why. God didn't reply, but now his eloquence scares him.

Then he began to help his mum carry groceries from the market. Everyone was friendly those days, but the kids who go all the compliments were those tall and lanky kids. Wanting a bit of the attention, he asked God to make him taller. God didn't reply, but then later, he realized that for much of his entire life, he was always one of the tallest in his class, if not the tallest. And he stopped growing at the perfect height for a young man to be, not like Yao Ming.

Then he began to go to nursery classes, and the teacher always gave stickers to those who got full marks for their tests. He wanted the stickers badly, but he never did well for tests. Frustrated, he asked God to "make him smart". God didn't reply, but looking back on his life, he'd always aced most of his tests (except Chinese) and his A-levels (which was what God did to allow him to find the subject he is now madly in love with).

Then he began to learn about what love is, and fell in love. Yes, at kindergarten. Girls around him didn't understand what it was like to love, but the moment they could, they always went for the cooler guys. Wanting to get some of that attention, he asked God why shouldn't he be cooler. God didn't reply, but he was never out of the "cool gang" again (with the exception of church and JC, church because you can't be cool when your dad is the Sunday School Principal, and JC coz God wanted to teach him a vital lesson by outcasting him from all possible cliques). The worse thing was, he even became the leader of many of those cool gangs, leaving quite a number stranded academically while he continued to ace his examinations. The fact that all of them still look up to him is beyond his own understanding.

Then he began to realize that being cool wasn't enough, it was the leaner, slimmer, muscular guys who were getting all the attention. As a pretty obese kid, he was teased for being "Vicfat" in primary school and "Ah Fat" in Catholic High and NJC. He never really minded, until his first break-up in JC, where his first love left him for another man who was, as he thought, every way worse than he was except in weight (and eyesight). Again, he blamed God for making him fat, saying that God can't change anything since both his parents were on the meatier side. God didn't reply, but threw him into BMT and later OCS, where he lost an amazing 25kg. His dad also later showed him old photographs where the old man used to be underweight during his undergraduate days in UK. So it wasn't a genetic problem after all.

In OCS, he went clubbing pretty often to destress with his friends, and his charm did get him places. But the ladies, while talking to him, always had their eyes on the handsome, feature-beautiful men on the opposite side of the room. In a way, it saved him coz he never did get to experience a one night stand, but he did complain about his pimple-filled complexion. He had it since Primary 3, and while his friends who started having pimples at Primary 6 finished their "pimply" stage by Sec 3, he was still struggling with it during army. Blaming God for being unfair, he demanded for an explanation. Once again, God didn't reply, but the moment he commissioned from OCS, he never had a major problem with pimples again. Even from certain angles and lighting, his complexion is near perfect and scarless. His features began to stand out, and he even got to participate in a pageant, something he never dreamed of his whole life. For the record, he even won a prize there.

Now, he's frustrated because he thinks he's poor. He isn't, really, coming from a middle-class family with an above average education level. He can even socialize with those of the elite circle, blending neatly with his general knowledge and social skills, passing off more than adequately as someone of their status or higher. But because his "richer" friends in school are seemingly having all the luck with the ladies, and because money is needed to update to the latest fashion, play expensive sports and eat out at expensive places, money suddenly seems to be the key. A flashy sports car, hair from the top stylists and gadgets that cost a bomb always attracts attention, and he knows it full well.






SOMEBODY SLAP HIM PLEASE IF HE DARES ASK GOD WHY HE SHOULDN'T BE RICHER.

BASTARD.









He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have. -Socrates

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