Victor has failed his driving test for the 3rd time already.
He really doesn't like cars. He can steer women on the dance floor, steer canoes on rough waters, steer the most complex and deep conversations, steer a Stinger in Grand Theft Auto at 160 km/h without killing a single civilian, but he can't steer a dumb, inanimate car.
Talk about faith and trusting God, Victor even brought an I/C photograph ready to collect the little blue card.
Talk about prayer, Victor did a hell lot of that, although it seemed like a "last-minute-grab-Buddha's-feet" effort.
Talk about excitement, Victor was even wondering how he would be breaking the happy news to all the lovely people who have shown him support, including you, in a way.
Sadly, it was not to be.
Not even when his instructor arranged for the most lenient tester in the school to take him. Not even when this very nice tester was willing to forgo two negotiable immediate failures so that he can pass. God had to make him collect three immediate failures so that the result would be beyond doubt.
"You're actually a very good driver. You just lack confidence only. I really want to pass you but I can't. I'm sorry. Try harder next time."
I realize that I'm writing in the form of a third person because I still can't bring myself to face this entire episode. I suspect this is how an alter is created in multiple personality disorder.
Often, I wonder how people react to disappointments. I think about it so much, I don't know how to react when faced with one. When I got the result, all I remembered was slowly walking out of the driving center to the MRT station. It was numbing. Some part inside me wanted to smash something really badly. Another part wanted to just sit down and cry. But the level of self-control within me is so highly-developed, such avenues of catharsis are simply unavailable. I just gave a blank stare and walked.
I know that as I contain all these feelings and emotions, something is dying slowly inside. And it didn't help that I refused to converse with God - at least till the MRT station. And it was then that I realized that if I didn't, I'd have no one to talk to. And when conversation started, I just lambasted Him all the way home. I refused to attend the Campus Crusade Life Meeting, I refused to eat dinner with Dad and Nick by feigning sleep, and I personally abused myself by running another 5km when I'm exhausted and still have an important presentation the next day. It was easy. I just had to convince myself that I was fat even though just last Sunday my grandma was appalled at how skinny I've become. She gasped when I jokingly told her it was trendy.
Sometimes, I think self-abuse is contextual. When it's something like bulimia, the world gasps in horror and devises means and ways to "help" people out of it. When it's something like running way beyond one's capacity, no one really cares.
Relax, I've stopped lambasting God already. I've given up trying to come up with creative ideas on why He would make me fail my driving test so many times. I'm tired of reminding Him that He owes me an explanation, because I know sometimes it way out of my wisdom, and that He doesn't have to give me one anyway. I've stopped telling Him that I've spent all my internship money on driving lessons, and that I really wanted to return my dad the additional money he has given me for the remainder, of which He'll remind me gently that my dad's money is also His money.
You can't win any argument with God. But I'm still feeling very shitty. Very very shitty. I know I'm in the season of asking for humility before formally embarking on the evangelical band project with the church peeps, but Lord, I really don't see how it's related. There's already nothing to boast by passing at the 3rd try, why push it down to the 4th, 5th try?
You know God, sometimes I think that I'm regressing in my relationship with You. Of all the abstract things I write here, so often I don't even get the fundamentals right.
There is no loneliness greater than the loneliness of a failure. The failure is a stranger in his own house. -Eric Hoffer
Has His unfailing love vanished forever? Has His promise failed for all time? -Asaph (Psalms 77:8)
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