I don't know what's harder, to not feel anything at all or to be able to feel with great depth about something which only remains a possibility. I still struggle with possibilities, many years on. It's this scar that refuses to go away no matter how hard I try to ignore it. Perhaps it's how I function as a person. Perhaps some people are able to shrug possibilities away easier than I ever can, as long as they see that the possibility of these possibilities turning into reality is low. But it's hard to construct feelings that way. Once I feel, I feel. And this is where I would experience a great deal of internal conflict. Are these feelings real or imagined? Have I always conflated the actuality of these feelings together with how I actually want to feel about it? Have I unwittingly intensify and glorify feelings more than it really is originally? That's the scary thing about possibilities. It is open ended, leaving to us how we want it to be written. And I wrote and re-wrote. Each time with a certain hope of a happy ending or a happy beginning. I write the same thing each time. I tried writing it differently but of course it doesn't sit very well with me. Because I cannot lie to myself that way. Is it okay then that the very being of you go through life with possibilities and just be okay with them remaining that way forever? Or is it better to then not have any glimpses of possibility and live a life with more clarity?
This is difficult to write, but it's definitely an important one amidst all the conversations we've been having lately. Growing up being brown/Malay wasn't easy, especially when it became ingrained in me that having a darker skin tone by default, is less desired than fairer skin tones. In childhood, I couldn't recall having to endure comments about my skin colour. Thankfully amongst children, these values ascribed to lightness and darkness didn't yet come to the fore. This consciousness became more obvious since secondary school. And it was tough and painful. I've been in a sports CCA since secondary school and I couldn't really avoid not becoming tanned. What hurts the most was even my peers at that time would make comments about my skin colour without even realising the damage caused from these words. These comments I recall, were sometimes made under the guise of humour. I was called 'budak hitam' (literally means 'black child') and even ...
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