It's Sunday night all over again.
I can hear slight drizzle against the window panes and I'm watching the lights on the other building go out. People must be heading to bed and I wonder: Do they dread waking up to Monday? Do they hate Monday? Do their bodies feel unusually heavy on Monday mornings? Do they drag their feet into office?
It was a surprisingly tough day today. But it reminded me of the conversations I had with Ains.
"You're really too nice. That's why people always bully you," she said.
I knew this for a long time but I was thinking of the best way to construe my personality without sounding like a pushover because I'm not. I simply developed a sizable threshold for bullshit over the years.
I suppose it is my way of maintaining zen and a passive way to show I'm backing down because I believe there's no reason putting up a fight against anyone who has decided not to give me a real chance even before the argument began.
To some, when I keep mum, I'm admitting to the mistakes or blame they put on me. To others, when I keep mum, it means I've lost. To me, however, when I keep mum, I'm really just listening.
No matter how urgent I feel the need to rebut a statement or prove my intentions were misunderstood, I take extra caution in ensuring I'm not swayed by personal feelings.
And it's the same treatment I give to everyone.
According to Ains, this is being too nice since I easily end up at the shorter end of the stick but I don't mind. I don't mind as long as I don't shortchange myself or anyone else.
That has always been my guiding principle: Even if the odds are against me, I shall not compromise myself or anyone in my stead.
In this home, I've grown steadily insecure about myself. Maybe this whole transition to adulthood and the heavily emphasised notion of adulting in this household has made me feel more burdened than liberated. I find it increasingly unbearable to deal with the responsibilities and commitments as an adult living under this roof.
But to the adults, this is merely whining. I'm whimpering about a reality I've no way of changing and I shall soon succumb to this monotonous system. This is what the adults want but this is not what I look forward to.
Still, the circumstances I was brought up in taught me to never question the authorities. For as long as I live here, I am tied to the rules of this household and I will continue to swallow my words because my words will cut more than I would ever imagine.
It never fails to turn into a self-debate: Do I put myself before others or do I be the bigger man and mellow for the ones I love?
Today, I felt extremely wronged. And extremely compromised.
I couldn't say a word. No, I didn't say a word. The voices in my head were frantically trying to calm me down while the adult screamed over my thoughts.
As I chowed down my dinner, I was on the verge of breaking down. But everyone was there. And it felt if I cried, if I let my tears show, I would have lost a battle I did no wrong in to begin with.
My intentions were misunderstood. My feelings were misunderstood. I was misunderstood by the closest of kin. And that made me realise how small I was.
Everything fell (and stayed) in place for a good period of time and I might have started taking that for granted so I was reminded of my standing today.
I shall not forget, though, that even though I didn't squeak a single word at the dining table, I didn't lose.
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