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Content warning: Mentions of bullying and social exclusion
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You’ve got it all, you’ve lost your mind in the sound.
There’s so much more, you can reclaim your crown.
You’re in control, rid of the monsters inside your head.
Put all your faults to bed, you can be king again.
–King by Lauren Aquilina
As a child, I believed the world was a simple place. To be happy, was to be at peace and content with ourselves and what we had. The world presents opportunities to us, and we also face times of hardship and challenges. No other way to go about it, for what was life without the struggles, would we appreciate the good times as much then?
I couldn’t understand it at the time, unable to weave the logic into my system. Why would life still be good if all I experienced was not easy and light? What strength does one carry to push through their challenges? Well, I would eventually find the answers myself, but it wasn’t what I expected.
When I was thirteen-years-old, I was socially excluded by my classmates. Hearing negative comments meant to mock me, ignored during group discussions, left for the very last when selecting group members for a project, purposely left out of conversations when I tried to join in. An entire package, really.
Although I can’t quite pinpoint when it began, I remember the root cause. There was this ordeal where someone from another class (who I didn’t know at all) decided to say I should end my life and that I had no friends, using my classmate’s phone to message in our class group chat. Bizarre, I know.
This escalation led to my classmates to turn on me, a few at first, but all it takes is for one to start and others may follow suit. I wish it was subtle, but realistically, that was never the case. I mean, quiet and shy, someone who seemed easy to pick on, it didn’t help that I was seen as a “weird” person. An outcast, an anomaly.
A girl told me to go away when I tried to make small talk, a classmate told a friend that he didn’t want to sit next to me. Another told me to shut up when I was “talking to myself”, silencing my verbal thought process. Others looked down on my appearance, the way I spoke. Each blow pierced my ribs and left my chest aching with the aftermath.
And no, it wasn’t the entire class. But when there are a few from the lot, with everyone else silent and keeping their heads down, it feels like they are all against you. What’s the use of a few shields on a battlefield as arrows rained down from the sky?
I don’t blame them, who would want to stand out and face the possibility of receiving the same treatment? It was unpleasant, and most definitely not desired. If associated with the outcast, the same could be done to you. To survive, one would blend in with the rest, silent and unmoving.
With this heavy weight lodged in my chest, I struggled to fathom, how could a child be so cruel? The way the words seemed to flow with ease from their lips, dripping with venom, it poisons your bloodstream, and it consumes you. You feel as if you’re sinking in the ocean, lungs gasping for air as all you swallow is black water.
Wow, she’s so “smart”.
I don’t want to sit next to her, she’s weird.
Can you like, go away?
At such a young age, one is susceptible to such remarks. Eventually, I began to believe if I simply ceased to exist, it would all stop. If I could fade into the walls, that was certainly better than being seen as a joke. And I tried, keeping my mouth shut, a silent observer to the scenes before me; never expressing my opinions since no one listened to them anyway. All these ways to shrink myself into a shell, and maybe, I could finally feel some relief.
Surely there were other places to find solace in, home couldn’t be the only space I deemed safe enough, away from it all. Alas, I was wrong. My youth cell group had no safety net because one of them was there too. In school, he would occasionally mock me, his friends’ laughter ringing in the air. While in the enclosed walls of my cell group’s room, he never acknowledged that we were in the same class, and pretended I just didn’t exist.
Every Saturday afternoon for about two hours, I was in the same room as someone who made me question whether church was really what it was. People I knew said that church, especially youth cell groups, was a space where we could come as we are and not be judged.
But how could one be honest and vulnerable in a space where it didn’t feel like so?
On some days, I felt as if God was pulling an awful prank on me, there was no escape. This terrible feeling that made me feel small, the uneasiness in my skin. My desperate prayers appeared unanswered, ignored and forgotten in the dust.
Take away this pain. Make tomorrow a better day, I don’t want my sense of self broken down again. Please, let me breathe.
Maybe, I really wasn’t worthy enough, for anything. God seemed to hate me, no friendships, no kind face who seemed willing to extend their hand. Perhaps I was in the wrong, all this my own doing. It crushed me completely, leaving me to lie helpless in a pit of despair and loneliness, their condescending whispers echoing in the back of my mind.
In class, I’d freeze when a teacher called my name, shoulders tensed and heart pounding as I struggled to find the words to speak, knowing eyes were staring into my back. I would swallow the feeling of self-hatred which rose to my throat like bile, tasting bitter as I knew what mocking remarks would be made behind my back.
Months of this went by, and it was foolish of me to have kept this for so long. The jabs which bruised my chest were tearing me apart, making the process of holding myself together incredibly difficult. Onwards and upwards, my mother would say. But I failed to understand, it sounded so simple, yet why was I struggling?
Because these things take time, I learned. It doesn’t happen overnight, and it can’t be rushed. There’s a breaking point where it falls into place, all it requires is the courage to reach out and take that chance.
Why should I let them hold this over me? Isn’t that giving them what they want? I couldn’t let them win, never. No amount of tears threatening to spill or clenched fists would help in this scenario, no use for feeling broken and defeated when others stood at the top perfectly fine.
My walls crumbled, to build it up again was no easy feat. How could I collect myself from the ground to move forward when each day posed a challenge?
That year as November rolled around, it was announced during assembly that the Prefectorial Board were opening up for school prefect applications, looking for those to serve and lead. At this, the smallest spark stirred in my heart, thrumming for a brief second.
Was this my light at the end of this dark tunnel? A slight glimmer in the dark, a beacon of hope, perhaps a lighthouse to lead me to shore? An opportunity to be part of something bigger than myself, surely.
With some encouragement and support from family and friends, I sent in my application. Nerves prickling and racing thoughts, as long as I tried, that was all that mattered. And behold, two rounds of interviews and some earnest waiting later, the list posted revealed it all.
Despite knowing the steep road ahead, kicking into full gear and being willing to learn pushed me to try my best. And I loved it, this sense of community with a tiny group and our collective responsibility to serve the school. My seniors were great mentors who guided me through the process. Best of all, it muffled the shadows in my head, keeping them at bay while I put up a strong front.
Of course, the beginning wasn’t easy. It was no secret that I was quiet and introverted, the complete opposite of a leader’s expectations. Asserting myself was an entirely different challenge, but I was up for it. Finding my voice and trying to get things in order while juggling discipline and responsibility was part of it all. Besides, there was nothing to lose, right?
My classmates didn’t change, not that I expected them to. Just because I decided to play leader didn’t mean I was suddenly feared. Some tried to physically intimidate me, swinging their palm to my face right before they made contact, jeering if I blinked or instinctively withdrew, roughly slamming the door so I couldn’t enter the classroom. Others made mean remarks, blaming that if the class got into trouble, the obvious reason being I snitched, pulling everyone into a bothersome situation.
With each day, I learned how to carry myself more, to embody the qualities a leader should have. My confidence grew bigger, and one day, it reached a point where I could stand on my own feet.
They say time heals, and it holds true to an extent. The past years have taught me nothing but resilience and grace, forcing me to grow out of my flawed mindset. The world isn’t black and white as much as I wished it was, most things a grey area.
The truth was, I really wasn’t the only one struggling to keep it together. Certain classmates faced similar treatment, and selfishly, I used to think it wasn’t as bad. My problems seemed bigger when I compared mine to theirs, foolishly justifying the reasoning behind it.
Oh, sure, they may be mean to him, but at least he has a decent enough friend group. How awful can they be when she can simply avoid them by mixing with her friends? They’re lucky to have people to fall back on instead of being utterly alone.
They say kids that age don’t know any better, they’re trying to discover who they are, their purpose and where they belong. They may make mistakes in attempts to fit in, their sense of judgement flawed and in need of guidance. Still, how could you forgive a person for the pain they inflicted upon you? The words that cut and stung, the wounds that reopened each time the memory touched the surface, how could one simply let that go?
With time, I realised that I changed, as people do when they grow. I “talk to myself” less now, actually, not a word at all. The thoughts play conversations in my head as I navigate my bearings, never verbalising them anymore. My heart is tucked into my sleeves, safe from the world’s eyes. Some things are better kept close to the heart. But the world I see is different, some views more clear than the next.
We all have our struggles, big or small, that’s up to you to define. What we see may not be what really lies beneath, and it doesn’t hurt to show kindness within such moments.
To them, those times would be part of their careless youth, perhaps all forgotten or disregarded. They can live either happy or oblivious, a real blessing. The consequences of their actions never made known, for there’s no reason to. Holding it over their heads would bring nothing, no point keeping so much quiet rage inside. The way to move forward was to slowly let it go, like leaves falling to the ground with the breeze, still and quiet.
To me, it’s a time where I truly learned a lot about myself and the world. Bad things happen, but what’s important is how we react, the way we deal with the aftermath. And I’m not saying this because I did it in a smooth process, it absolutely wasn’t. I’m the last person to be deemed perfect, none of us are. I’ve lost my patience, made some mistakes which I regret to this day, said things that I wish to take back, but when it’s out there, nothing can reverse what’s done. What we can change is how we move on, since nothing would be achieved if dwelling on the past was our only option.
There’s a part inside me which knows that it’s fine to not be entirely okay, for my heart has soldiered through the harsh conditions of growing up. I may never be who I was before this, and that’s okay. We’re all a little broken and flawed, more than we’d like to admit. As long as we never lose ourselves in the process, the days should be a little brighter.
It’s never too late to reclaim who you are; you’re worthy as it is. Don’t try to suppress your true self to blend with the world. You deserve to express your thoughts and words, no voices silenced by their circumstances.
To those who know what it’s like to carry this weight, who feel chained to something you desperately want to break free from, my heart is with you. It’ll be tough, but you can rise and learn. You’re most definitely not alone, and my hand is stretched out for yours each step through it all.
For the only way is up.
Written by: Zhen Li
Edited by: Ryan
