Hye everybody. I just got back from English Jer camp and I am about to apply everything that I gained from the camp as critical as it may be. I will tell you a story of mine. It might be boring to you, but ya… what I’m going to tell insya-Allah all true. But before that, the first thing I am going to apply is– telling stories. Sharing stories are fun. You may know that you are not the one who struggling alone in this world, others too. Okay, I will start.
Things began to be all wrong to me when my family and I moved to Seremban from Batu Kikir. I was super happy when mak abah told me that we were going to move to Seremban– which I known as a “bandar” and have so much exciting mall compare to my current place without knowing that I would be the one who suffered the most ((sorry im exaggerating)).
I moved to a new school when I was 9 year old. It was a Chinese school. The previous school was a Chinese school too and most of the students were Malay so I could speak in Malay with them instead of Chinese. But in the new school, Malay students can be counted with one hand. I was in standard 3 back then, I cannot speak and understand Chinese very much, and it was hard for me to survive there. What makes this more difficult to me was, the Chinese students could not speak and understand Malay as well. The other students and I were like chickens trying to communicate with ducks. And things got more difficult when Malay students in my class would not want to be friend with me.
Since then, I do not talk much and that caused me to not have friends. Well, that was hard. I was just 9, I needed friends to talk, play and laugh too.
In addition, the teachers did not like me cause I could not speak Chinese and I was one of the worst student in Chinese subject. They were too fierce till I reached that one point that I was freaking scared to go to school. I remembered that one day, I left my book at home and the teacher asked me why did I left it. Just like what I told, I could not speak in Chinese well. Yes I could, but… it was worse than the broken English lol. Okay back to the story, I was so “gagap” and too much “err” to explain to her my reason. She got annoyed and said something that mocking me, so everybody in the class laughed so hard. I was so shame. I was not trying to be racist by telling this story, I just wanted to tell you guys that somebody called a teacher, a professional profession still being racist towards her student.
After all, I stayed at that school until I graduated from primary school. Truth is, I did not have the best childhood memories. I became a very silent person, I did not have confidence to do anything, I was literally so afraid of everything.
Entering secondary school does not gave any differences unless having “crush” hahahah. Having problems with friends were normal. Even now too, I have problems with somebody called friend. But in secondary school I could not tell that I have problems with friends, but I have problems with people. Form one, there was no friend. I mean, a person that I could tell everything. A person that could love me in return. Instead of getting friends, I got not-so-called-friend who were always there to laugh at me, to mistreat me and to take me for granted. Form two, I tried to be friend with those three girls that I used to hate when I was in form one. And I never knew that the people that I hated the most before were the one who would love me till now. From what I remember, the very last time I was treated as a friend by somebody– when I was 8 year-old, before I moved to that new Chinese school.
After PMR, I moved to a technical school. Not to tell much about form four and form five memories, I summed them up and what I can tell is, the memories were not too good. I faced the hatred from my classmates for almost two years. But luckily there were my good friends who always there for me through thick and thin. I didn’t know if it was me who have problems or it was them who badmouthing me and caused everybody to hate me as well. Maybe, it was my fault for being too gedik or too ugly but, still… was I too bad that I deserved to be treated like that? I remember what they said to me, “ramai orang tak suka kau. Aku pun.” “Aku menyampah betul dengan perempuan ni.” “Kau bukannya baik sangat pun.” “Jangan berlagak baiklah.” It hurts me so much. And one day, I could not stand anymore and I went to my friend and I cried. I hugged her very tight that I did not want to let her go so I could have strength to face all those hates for me. They saw me crying in her shoulder, and they asked my other classmate why I cried konon-konon that they were innocent. Before we sat for SPM, they apologized to me. Its not that I did not want to forgive them, but I think if its not because of the SPM, they wouldnt ever asked me for forgiveness. I acted like I did not care for what they did to me. I kept it all. And that was my fault for not telling them that I was hurt so much. I thought that I could let bygones be bygones but I was wrong. I could not.
After facing those hates I got, at last, I found a place that the people there love me. They treated me just like what a human being that needed to be taken care of. Matriculation life was nice. I love them. They were like angel to me. Too bad that was short. And now, I am in UTeM. People here are nice too. Very nice.
I do not know what was wrong with me back then that many people hated me. And even if those guys have asked me for forgiveness, but, the wounds are still bleeding. How can I forget all of those bad memories?
I cannot even look at them laughing or smiling, it might hurt me more. How come they can be so happy after hating somebody?
And all of those bad memories, I havent told my parents about it. They dont know the suffers I suffered when I was in that Chinese school. They dont know the hurts that I felt when I was in that technical school.
I used to think that humans are mean. But as I grew older, I met people who are loving, I made friends, and I think people are not that cruel anymore. Even if the childhood memories were not nice, I would want to create best memories in future.