Failure is The Stepping Stone to Success

  Panting…” breath in, breath out…” my head nagged at me, trying to calm myself.  the roaring sound of others surrounded me but I just had one goal in my brain. My hands were whipping on the hem of my shirt, my eyes setting on its goal. I had waited my whole life for this moment. I could only see the spark in my eyes of my younger self, staring at me with full admiration. At this moment, images of the past flashed through my head, I took a trip down memory lane.

  Four-year-old me started loving the idea of sports when my father brought me to one of his football practices. Although I never liked football, but the excitement on my father’s face when he flashed across the field was a sight I never want to forget. I was not the best in sports though. My life was controlled by my mother, to her, girls should be dancing in eye-catching leotards with big bows attached on their braided hairs. My beautifully flexed feet with long-stretched arms brings happiness into my mother’s life, but that was not who I am. Why I still do what I hated? This is because my mother was paralyzed at the age of twenty-five. She had just given birth to her first born the year before and she was a professional dancer. She was known to everyone from all walks of life and her comeback was supposed to be the talk of the year. That was exactly what happened, but, for the wrong reason.

  Just as my mother was doing her infamous Ariel step-back flip in her acrobatic routine, her foot slipped and she fell, it hit her right in the middle of her brain. She was rushed to the nearest hospital but was struck with the news that crushed all her hopes and dreams. She was paralyzed since then. With that she had been living her dream off of my life. I was forced into dance class when I just learned how to walk.  I did not know what was happening but the smile played on my mother’s face kept me going. Competitions, recitals, talent shows, you name it, I had been in them. I never liked this lifestyle and I was determined to change that in the year 2010.

  As I arrived at school, I was welcomed by the gossipy girls who I called my friends. They launched into torrential chatter and giggles while the basketball team made their way into the school. The majestic clock tower sounded, interrupting the students in mid-sentence. It was the starting of a new school year, new clubs, new students. I had always looked up to the brave and bold basketball team, they held records under their names and most of them were on the national team. During the registration for clubs, I clipped my way towards them. All of them were prating away with their holidays while I sneaked in my name into the list.

  My first basketball practice did not go as well as I thought it would be. I dithered onto the court with my physical education wear and stood alone at a corner. I did not know anyone and them gawking at me with their judging eyes were not helping at all. It was all okay at first but when it came to playing against one another, I was scared to death. Body contact had never bothered me but bumping into each other or playing rough was not what I was used to. I was called out in a heartbeat, being that I would not try to do any of the steps I had learned that day. The end of the training ended soon when the bell blared. I felt an instant relieve as I gathered my bag and dawdled my way out. I did not look where was I heading but a strong set of arms pushed me against the wall. My head hit the brick wall with a loud thump and I slowly made eye-contact with the person in-front of me.

  The captain of the team, Yee, had me pinned against the wall while her minions drugged through my bag. They pulled out my leotard, tap shoes, pointe shoes and my dress for the dance practice later. They threw it to the mud puddle beside them and stomped with their feet, I trashed and fought but Yee was too strong. Not only that, they had also thrown remarks at my face, “why are you here?” “go back to your pretty little studio, you don’t belong here!” “you’re not one of us! You don’t fit in with us!”, these were the things they shouted at my face. I did not know what I was feeling but my face burned with red and my fist clenched. When they had let go, I dropped to my knees and glared at the sky. What had I done to deserve this? From that day on, I vowed to prove them wrong.

  Ever since that faithful evening, I had a goal set into my mind. At this point, I told my mother about what I had joined, she was not the happiest camper but as long as I keep up the good work in my dancing, she did not care what I did outside of my studying time. I had to always try to walk with a steady gait into practice but I always ended up footslogging my way out. Extra practices on Saturdays and Sundays helped me. I poured my heart, blood, sweat and tears into it, all in the heart to prove that we can be what we want. I ran more laps, I did more rounds than any of my teammates did, I stayed back and shot hoops every day, I padded into the house every day after practice, in hopes that my mother does not see me like this, she would be disappointed.

  The day of proving myself came without warning. It was just like any other day where I did more training after school hours. My beloved coach came to me, with his hands touched my exposed shoulder, I was startled. He silently handed me an envelope and here I am from there. The newly built indoor basketball court stood like a proud father in the middle of the bustling streets of Manhattan. Puffing out his chest by throwing his doors wide opened. Here I am, in another foreign country, ‘ Malaysia ‘ wrote proudly on the back of my jersey.

  Time came back slowly and I was here again. With us being one point away from winning, I shot a three-pointer and in the hoop it went with a ‘swish’ sound. We had won champion that night and I proudly accepted my medal as the most potential player. “Failure is the stepping stone to success”, I stick to that till this very day, I never gave up.

Lost In The Jungle

  Someone tapped me on my shoulder. When I woke up, a racoon was looking straight at me, staring right into my eyes. I jumped in fear and it scrambled away. A wave of dizziness ran over my read, I squinted my eyes to adjust to the light while my hands rubbed my head. It was pin-drop silence. Something was fishy. That was when it hit me, where were my friends?

  It all started like this. It was the school semester break after all, my friends decided on a camping trip to the green virgin forest behind the quaint little slumbering village near Melaka. When the day of the trip finally came, I woke up by the birds chirping cheerfully outside my bedroom window. As I opened my windows, I saw the sun rose majestically over the horizon, heralding a glorious new day. The sky was ablaze with crimson and gold. I had a feeling, out trip would go smoothly. At 10 a.m. sharp, I met up with my friends whom had rented a bus and off we went to our destination.

  The journey in the bus was rough and bumpy. All my friends were blasting loud pop music while some were just talking among themselves. As I had burned the midnight oil to read my novels, I was very tired. The loud music and conversations were not helping me to fall asleep. Finally, after several fail attempts, I managed to slip into slumber.

  That was all I had remembered, I fell asleep on the bus with my friends and suddenly I was alone. After calming myself down, I inspected the bus. For some weird reason, the bus was covered in dust like it had not been used for donkey’s years. One step after another, the creaking sound of the floor had reached my ears. I was able to retrieve my bag from the bus but there was still no sign of life. I slowly went down the bus to realised I was in the forest.

  Tents had been put up and bags of food had been tied up in trees. The fire pit had been lit up and it was glowing so dimly. As my shadow grew longer, I came to realise it was close to night, I teetered anxiously towards one of the tents but I had stopped id in my tracks. There was a faint sound of whimpering in it. With my shaking hands, I opened the curtains of the tents and was surprised to find Windy, my friend in it.

  I ran to her and embraced her with my warm hug. I could not believe that I had finally fund life. She cried into my shoulder, murmuring words I could barely understand. I could only make out, “danger”, “shadow” and “all gone”. Afraid that she was in that zone of trauma, I hushed her to sleep.

  In the middle of the night, I heard a bloody scream of murder. I looked beside me right away but was met by an empty space. I ran as fast as I could with my bag hung loosely. I stopped at an aged tree with a crooked branch to catch my breath. I felt little droplets of water on my head and an odour smell reached my nostrils. I looked up and was met by the pale face of my friend with her eyes missing. I took a step back and saw that every single tree here was hooked with a body with no eyes to be found.

  A voice whispered behind me, “Enjoying the view little one? You’ll be next.” In a split second, I was rushing through branches and leaves. It was not long when I had lost sight of the creature. My luck was short as I tripped over a rock and it scratched my leg, just below my knee. I fell face on the floor and blood was flowing down my leg. An old abandon house was I sight and I limped my way towards it. In the matter of seconds, I was in the house. I chugged my way into a room and shut the door immediately. The sound of banging of doors reached my ears. I scurried myself to a faraway corner. Tears streaming down my face freely as there was no way out now.

  “Whoosh”, it had wiped out the door. I could hear it’s every step coming towards me. Soon enough I could feel it’s breath on my neck. It wrapped me around it’s slithering arms ad shook me. With a sudden wave, I was awoken on the bus. My friends surrounded me and one had me wrapped around her arms. The curiosity in their eyes explained everything, that was only a nightmare. I came to learn to never watch horror movies alone in the dark again. I hugged them all and was relieved that they were all alive.

  Through this nightmare, I saw he death of my friends. It was a horrible feeling, just thinking about what if it was real. I should appreciate the time I spend with my family and friends. We would all grow old one day so we should cherish the moments before it is too late.

The Effect of a Friend on My Life

“A friend in need is a friend indeed”, and that is undeniably true. Needless to say, I think all of us have experienced heartbreaks from friends to relationships. It is true that a friend will always come and go, but there is this one friend in our life, who stayed through the rough times, the one who always has your back and lend a shoulder to lean on. Colleen is that friend in my life. She had effected my life since the day she stepped onto it. It all started when I joined the basketball team as a junior.

  As a junior, I always looked up to the senior team. The second I stepped into the court, I saw Colleen. Why? Everyone was chattering away among their group of friends but she was by the bench, arranging routines, marking attendance and jotting down strategies to win against the opponent’s team. The simple action taken by her had shown me, she is a responsible captain. She took the responsibility of winning a match into her own hands. When the coach had not arrived or fell sick, she took charge of the training schedule and the smoothness of the training. She had proved to me that, one must be responsible of one’s action and know when to take responsibility into one’s hand. That, is one of the many traits of a good leader.

  Months passed and she was soon to be taking the biggest examination in a high schooler’s life, SPM. Just from the look in her eyes, I knew that she had been burning the midnight oil from the previous day. There was no denying that she was indeed a hardworking student. Whether it is in class or during practices, she will always be on her ‘A’ game. A hardworking student like her had shown everyone that, if you just work hard for something you want, you will get it, despite the impossible. Her actions had truly made me believe that ‘impossible’ is just ‘i m possible’ in disguise.

  Time flew by like lightning and our friendship had been getting better day by day. I was soon in sophomore year and she graduated. In that year, I was facing the lowest point in my life. In short, it was a memory that I would never want to go back to. I was placed in a class with new people and new teachers. It was all sugar, spice and everything nice, until we were greeted by a transfer student. Her name was Yin Thong and let me tell you, she was not the kind of person who was shy and kind. My first impression of her was not even near good, she was plainly rude to me. After a while, I had learned to ignore her rude remarks and focus on my friends who always have nice things to say.

  As the new girl found out that I did not care much about her, she started acting all nice and shy around my friends. One by one, I lost most of my friends from my class, only leaving one or two who stood by me. The ones who left started ganging up on me, throwing random insults here and there. It became hard for me to go to school. I would constantly be picked on by my so called ‘friends’ every day in school. As time went on, I could not cope with the stress anymore and I had chosen the worst possible way of release, which was cutting myself. I was upset, angry, betrayed, hurt and sad, self-harming seemed like the only solution to all of this, or so I thought.

  I remembered picking up a blade for the first time. My hands were trembling and my heart was beating like an African bongo. Without much thinking, I had made my very first cut. A sense of relief soon ran over my body. It was like as if I had no control over my actions, I began inflicting numerous cuts on my wrist. It used to be one or two but it was so addictive, I could not stop. Long sleeve shirts and jeans were my daily attire as I felt so ugly seeing all my scars. Inaudible cries accompanied me to sleep every night. I was scared and young, I did not dare to tell my parents. The only one who knew, was Colleen.

  Although I was covered in scars and was a nervous wreck, she did not leave. She stood by my side, assuring me that I was okay. She even managed to set up series of counsellor meetings for me. Her efforts had allowed me to believe there was still hope in humanity. However, with the helps from Colleen, it was not enough to stop the bullying. It was not enough to stop the never-ending voices which roamed my head, always telling me that I was worthless to the world. I was suffering day by day but it seemed like the smile I placed every day had fooled everyone. Everyone but Colleen.

  Everything kept happening, till one day. After school, I was met by a news from my parents discussing that we were in a fiscal crisis. They could not afford both my brother’s and my education fees. The single thought that went through my head was, I should back down and let my brother live a better life, a life I wished I had but never did. I was already messed up in my head, there was no reason for me to continue my life and waste my parents’ money. It was then, I made up my mind and which had determined my life ahead.

  “Bye, I would not cause you any trouble ever again. Thanks for staying”, with a click of a button, that message was sent to Colleen. With a rope in both of my hands, I swung the rope over and tied it to a bar. A stool under my feet, my head into the loop, I sucked in my last breath and say a silent goodbye. 13^th of October 2014, the day I had chosen to end my life. The day everyone who knew me would be so much happier. The day I decided to commit suicide. I was about to kick off the chair and slip into a dark abyss, known as death. I was abrupted by the bedroom door be broken down, stood in front of me was my teary-eyed parents and a paled Colleen.

  I had come to know that, right after Colleen received my message, she had rushed to my house and tried to save me. She was driving over the speed limit, risking her own life, to save mine. It was then, I realised, she cared. Out of the million people she could care about, she cared about me. Her pure kind words, whispered into my ears, soothing me with her melodious tune. My head lied on her shoulder, tears streaming down my face like Niagara Falls.

  The first time when I inflicted harm onto myself, I never thought I would choose recovery. Colleen’s actions had made me think otherwise. I started to seek help from professional therapist, counselling meetings once every week, the support from my family and Colleen had changed my life for the better. Now, I am fully recovered and living a positive lifestyle. Colleen is not just my friend, she is my inspiration, my motivation, my backbone and finally, my hero.

  In life, there will be friends coming from all walks of life. A person does not need many friends who talks behind their backs. The ones who stay, are the ones who truly are our best friend. It is not just friends who changes our life, it can be our family and teachers too. Nevertheless, as long as it is a change for the better, it will always be considered a true blessing to have them in our life.

Will I ?

In the life of the ill,

Will I still have hope?

In the life of me,

Who walked down a crooked road?

Will I ever be happy,

In the life of a freak?

Will I ever be enough,

For society’s tough love?

Will I ever be free,

From this never ending running spree?

Will I ever escape the life of a haunted soul?

Who had her body sold,

To the demon’s home?

Will I finally ever stop,

With my negatives thoughts?

I’m on the verge of breaking,

Though I’m the route of recovering.

Will I just slip up,

And step back into my life as a messed up?

Freedom

  Freedom, the only thing a child always wanted but did not realise he or she already had it. There is not much to describe about freedom, the word itself explained everything, is what a person does with it, that changes the meaning of this word. Although some might disagree with me, but here are my thoughts about the word, freedom, and it's meaning towards me.
  We were given freedom each day, to live our lives to the fullest or stuck in the past. That's one of the ways I look at freedom. We always had freedom given to us, but we were just being ungrateful and complained about not having freedom. Some people weren't given the freedom to live under a roof, to eat, to survive and I got all that. Every day when I first wake up, I am thankful of lord, for thou who let me survive the previous night. I am then free to choose whether I'll be a positive or negative person that day. Choices are freedom, the first choice I make at the start of my day is waking up. With itself, it shows everyone, that I had a choice to skip whatever I was planning to do that day, to be lazy or to be lying about being sick, but I did not. That's what freedom feels like, the chance to choose how I'm going to start my day.
  As a student, we were often told by substitution teacher that we were free to do what we want in class. When that happens, everyone would start talking or sharing jokes around the table. For me, the freedom feels like I could write, read and express myself without a limited space. I, myself, likes to write. Poetry, stories, diaries, you name it, I've wrote it. When I am writing, it feels like I'm in my own space, my own world. My story, my life, were expressed through my writings. Examinations nowadays are limiting the students. They are trying to cut a circle into a square. Therefore, students like me, were unable to write our story to our full potential. An examination has its own set of answers and now, they are deducting marks off our papers if we are not following the route of it. With it, it cuts off our freedom to write, to express. So, whenever I was given the freedom to write, I'll pour my heart and soul to that one or two pages of essay. My emotions are in sync with my writing, each and every one of my essays meant something to me. The freedom to write meant more than just finishing a homework assigned by a teacher, it meant my life. It meant I'm mature enough, to have the freedom and to be creative of how I want to pen my story.
  Other than that, freedom to me, as a daughter, is the freedom of choosing my occupation, the courses I want to study, the kind of jobs I'm choosing and many more choices to come with it. Teenagers nowadays were often controlled by parents. Teenagers, like me, had parents planned our future before I was even born. Although I understand it was for my own good and will be guaranteed a stable job, it is still not what I enjoyed doing. This kind of freedom were the ones nowadays parents do not give us, because they think we are not mature enough to make such a huge choice. It is undeniably true, however, I did not have the freedom to choose my future, it had always been planned and I would probably never enjoy it. Life is short and this was not the way I intended it to be. I, as a teenager, had been told many times by relatives, telling me I had to be a doctor, accountant, lawyer, engineer and so forth. These thoughts were screwed into my head before I even knew how to walk. The freedom of choice in this part of life was a huge risk, but at least I'm able to choose something I knew I would be determine to hold on to.
  Lastly, as a person, the best freedom is the freedom of being myself. In the society's eye, I had often put up a smile but most of the time, that smile was not genuine, it was just an act. I was a shy, quiet girl, who was afraid of rejection, humiliation, embarrassment, teased, hate and attention. I was deeply saddened that even a child as young as 7, was already insecure with his or her own body because someone from school told him or her that they are fat, ugly, weird etc. I am not saying that people did not have the rights to do so, but if you have nothing nice to say, why bother saying it in the first place? Though wounds and scars will fade, but words are burned into our heads forever. I think, if one have to get the freedom of this, we must first be courageous to gain self-confidence. We can join many activities to achieve that, such as public speaking, debate, group activities, presentation, discussion groups, theater and so forth. After I had gained self-confidence, I am never afraid to be myself. What other better way to be a person, than being yourself. Self-confidence had helped me gained the freedom of being me. Be proud of who I have come to be and keep growing to be who I intended of being. The freedom of being who I really am without anyone's permission. That, my friend, is freedom.
  Freedom is not something you set it to be, it can be absolutely anything you want it to be. I encourage everyone to speak up, because the day you stopped speaking up, is the day your freedom truly ends. I hope this article had helped you understand more about the word.

-thank you for reading. xoxo

An Artist Sufferings

Her eyes shone, 

In the far away night. 

There's a million stones, 

But her eyes met mine. 

I saw her down the hallway, 

But didn't care much anyway. 

Few days later, 

She was like torn up paper. 

She was standing alone, 

Her heart far away from home. 

She held a brush like no other, 

And a canvas placed front. 

She can paint a pretty picture, 

But her day glowed dimmer. 

As her brush was a razor, 

Her canvas was her wrist. 

She hurts and she cries, 

But you can't see it in her eyes. 

As she always smiles, 

And says "I'm fine".

A knife to her wrist was her way out, 

But no one ever did hear her shouts. 

She's dead inside,

Suffering outside.