Only the right questions will ever garner the right answers.
- "Why aren't you serving anymore?"
This was the only question anyone has ever asked me about serving that I could answer truthfully to. Yet despite the fact that I have spent day after day rehearsing reasons and arguments in my head to counter such a question at length, my unreservedly honest reply lasted as long as...a line. About a dozen words, to be exact.
But it meant more, I think, than all the other times numerous annoying dingbats have repeatedly hit me and questioned in what I can only recall as infuriating squeaks of voices:
"When are you coming back?"
To which I would like the fibbing phony I am answer, "Oh, um, I don't know...maybe after I stop working, or maybe once I settle down in college."
But then being a liar would be far better than losing my patience. Which will probably result me going "NEVER." Which would result in them going "WHY?" Which would result in me getting exasperated because they obviously don't get the bigger picture and going "BECAUSE I'D HAVE TO SEE YOUR FACE."
Because that would require a lot less explaining than actually trying to explain everything.
But I do admit there was this one occasion where I actually answered one of those irritating pipsqueaks with the truth. The squeak handled it well. Proud of him. - "Oh, my dad used to work there! Yes. He was a lecturer for law."
I understand that not everyone's father can be a former lecturer in the school I am attending. I can understand if you have doubts about the institution having heard of the fee structure. I can understand if you query why I chose that particular college over the other seemingly more recognized one. I understand that the spoilt rich brats I hang out with never hang around that side of the city and could never be bothered with such a practically unheard-of place.
But really, asking scornfully,
"Why don't you just go to Sunway or Taylor's or HELP or somewhere people like us go?"
I just don't go to Sunway or Taylor's or HELP or somewhere people like you go because...well, it's somewhere people like you go, and your class of society does not agree with me. I don't deny that I know great people who go to these institutions with slightly higher brand value. But are the majority of the people there that great? No. Are they all brilliant high achievers? No. Are they the kind of society I value, run on the same wavelength with and share views and principles with? No.
There we go. - "Are you happy?"
Round of applause for this person who actually knew what mattered. I suppose I can't exactly blame everyone else because they didn't know what to say. I suppose I can't blame them for assuming I'd be ecstatic. I can't blame them for thinking I'm normal. But that's the problem, you see. I'M NOT NORMAL. And because I am the oddity I am, resounding echoes of "Congratulations" on every side makes me crave a wall to loose my forehead upon.
But I don't do such things because even though I am a social freak I know how to behave. Hence, I smile stupidly and say thank you and pretend to mean it when there are other things to be ecstatically worried about. - "Sam, you're too skinny, why'd you lose so much weight, why did you freaking do this to yourself, stop being unhealthy you stupid cow, you are so sick and wrong on so many levels it's just getting disgusting."
But no one ever says that. Not even me, though I know I should.
Everyone is all like,
"Oh Sam, you've lost weight, you're so slim, you're so pretty, you look healthy, you could model (if you were taller - yes, rub it in.)"
And yet again, I stare blankly and mechanically recite my thank yous because the "compliment response" play button is somewhat automatic though it shouldn't be.
Disclaimer: There was no spirit of vengence whatsoever throughout the writing of this post. All insults were intended as personal truths.
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