Thank you...
For the record.. if I could turn back time and redo the final moments I left sheffield.. this would have been what I wanted to say:
Dear friend,
I thought long and hard about what I would say to you when we part ways… but I couldn’t come up with something good. I only knew that I did not want to say goodbye or farewell.. because though our time here has ended.. our friendship is in fact.. just beginning. “We were strangers ,starting out on a journey.. never dreaming what we had to go through.. now here we are.. I’m suddenly standing.. at the beginning with you…” you know the rest of the song dont you? Thats how I would like to look at it.
In fact, getting to know you, sharing with you, talking stupid stuff and making lame jokes with you have been the most fulfilling thing I have done in my time there, isn't that insane? You thank me for teaching you small stuff like camera’s and going for interviews... little do you realize that in having fellowship with you.. I have gain so much more. The late night chats….. the jokes… the laughs.. the tears.. they supported me.. and carried me through.. and I would dare to say, its because of you… my time here in Sheffield was so much more colourful.. so much more meaningful. I like to think that a degree is not all I gained in my time here; that I would have gained good and meaningful friends. And hopefully, others would have gained something out of unspectacular, ordinary me. Among all the friends that I am so happy and grateful to gain these 3 months.... you stand firmly on top of that list.
You have a good and sincere heart, and you are very passionate about people. They call you a songbird.. and just like a songbird, you spread cheer and happiness to those around you… is it any wonder they call you joy? To me, the greatest thing you have done for me is just being yourself when you are around me and befriending me in such a sincere way. You asked me when the late night calls started.. I remember now.. I think it was the day you called me back that night not long after I spoke to you.. and you told me you were feeling very emo about what I had just said to you earlier, about the $USD. But I had to call you back later cuz I was with friends. U remember that? I sure do...
There really is only 1 thing want to tell you.. which is..
Thank you.....
Thank you from the bottom of my heart….
For everything that you have done, from the small things like fetching a cup of water, and using your phone.. to encouraging and supporting me, housing us for a week, that sweet and meaningful card, to sharing your worries and problems with me… You tell me about trying your best to be a blessing to others.. but you already are! I know it because I felt it.... Keep it up!
I have had the time of my life these 3 months.. and you have been a big part of those months dear friend. God bless you, and continue sending angels into your life.. I have you in my heart.. even now when we are far apart, and I will continue to pray for you always. Think of me now and then.. more than you would your average friend.. but less than you would your boyfriend okie.. haha..
Take care and stay safe. Till we meet again.
From the heart
Me
Oh... the pains of leaving!
Leaving was difficult…. Not just in the emotional sense, but literally, it was hard to leave!
I had thought the most difficult part of it was saying goodbye to all that I was leaving behind.. The morning I left Sheffield, it was wet, cold and chilly making the whole setting gloomy, not unlike how I was feeling at the time. I had slept very little the night before, busy packing and trying to fight off that sinking feeling starting to form in my heart. I was leaving soon, in a matter of hours... and it made me sad inside. I had spent my last day to the fullest as I had promised myself. I had lunch with my friends (home cooked), I had gone to Norfolk park with a dear friend, did nothing but talk, take pictures and lie down on the grass. There was a hint of autumn; the flowers that first started to bloom during the beginning of summer when I arrived were now withering. Under the blue sky, people were bringing their dogs out for walks and enjoying the day …. but me… I was just trying to imbue the moment in my mind forever…
As morning approached, there were a million things racing through my mind, a million things I wanted to say; just something sincere and meaningful but as I hugged each and every one of them, but I was speechless. I deliberately hugged the person I would miss most last… maybe because it was hardest for me to say goodbye to her of all. Maybe it was because I had intended to say some last words to her as a fitting farewell in honour of our warm relationship, . “You are a public speaker for goodness sake, you’ve given speeches before hundreds of people.. say something you idiot… ” But the right words never came to me, at least not in time. By the time the bus left, I was kicking myself for not saying something more. I kept bashing myself. Of course, it didn’t help that the 2 girls I were traveling with were already in tears, by the time I arrived at the airport, I was pretty emo myself.. though I was careful not to show it. I was in a reflective mood at the time. I had gained so much over these 4 months.. none of which I really expected.. except the British degree of course. But more than that, I had grown spiritually, I had a different way of life, I had gone backpacking, I had immersed myself in a different culture.. I had learnt a grand total of 2 french words (wi & messi) but most significantly… I had come to know people.. I had gained friends.. and to my own surprise… I actually cared for them… a lot…
As we checked in, and waited for the boarding gate to be announced, I though it was going to have a looOong emotional flight home.. But there was to be no flight home at all for the day. The plane had technical problems.. a dent on the head.. and the engineers were working on it. We were issued free coupons for food at the counter. We had not eaten the entire day, except hot chocolate prepared back in Sheffield. But as we queued for food, we were called to the gate again: Our bags were to be collected and we were to be scheduled on another flight. So we went down to collect our luggage, only our luggage never surfaced. While everyone else got theirs, our bags were conspicuously missing. The stewardess told us to go check in into the other flight anyway, and our bags would be forwarded accordingly. So without our luggage, we queued up again to have our flights rescheduled, only to be told that we would have to rush to the 2nd terminal to catch a flight to London.. then to Malaysia.. problem was that upon arrival.. we would still not have our luggage… we would have to leave and address and the airline would send it to us in due time..just great. There was a second problem… the plane was leaving in 15 minutes.. so we unless we flew to the other terminal we weren’t going to make it. But we went none the less.. only to be turned back by the flight attendant.. the gate was close, even though the plane was still there.. So we had to walk back to the original terminal.. to our airline counter and tell them we were rejected.. By the time.. a lot of people had lost their temper. There were a few girls in tear, exhausted after 2 weeks of backpacking.. there was a family with 2 toddlers.. there were 2 elderly ‘makcik’s’ who looked totally dazed and confused since they didn’t speak a word of English (it was then that I realized I had not seen a Malay for 4 months!)…. And there was us.. and among us, a friend who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown; she had a horrible 3 months.. she couldn’t take the food, the weather or the people, and she was seriously home sick.. and now the stress of traveling was getting to her.
We were booked into a hotel room.. and unexpectedly, I got to spend one final night in the UK.. though it felt more like being in limbo more than anything else. I was no longer in Sheffield, I had said my goodbyes (though I was still kicking myself about that).. but I was not home either. Our distressed friend again could not handle the western dinner, and without her luggage or protein drink.. she was in pieces.. she vomited in the dining hall.. which was really embarrassing.. and totally avoidable if she had taken our advice and gone to the toilet! Sigh~ but anyway.. The airline promised us our luggage, but it never came.. and after dinner.. we made one final attempt and returned to the airport.. were we made up a half lie about our friend needing her medication (which was in fact just protein shake) from our luggage bags.. then they were sympathetic.. and by the end of the night.. we had our luggage again! Yay..
After 2 hearty buffets for dinner than breakfast (Malaysian easily bribed by good food you see)…and a comfy bed to sleep in, my friends and I were more than willing to forgive the airline for their screw-up, and we set out on our second attempt to return home. We joked that it was hard to enter the UK.. now it seems leaving it is a challenge too! It felt so much like some sort of test…a dare.. to test your endurance and your determination in returning home.. which is really fine.. if you wanted to return home in the first place… which wasn’t really the case for me., I was just playing the part.
After queuing for what felt like the hundredth time.. we were told that 3 of us would have to transit on a different flight.. to singapore.. before returning to KL.. another delay.. 3 of us would have a direct flight from Dubai.. only stopping by Singapore before arriving at KL on Sunday night.. that was the one I was on. 7 hours flight to Dubai.. 6 hour wait at Dubai.. 7 hour flight to Sinapore, 1 hour wait on the plane, and finally 1 hour to KLIA, and I was finally back in Malaysia. I found out later that those who did manage to get on that first rescheduled flight to London had to stay overnight at London too.. and those who transit at Singapore (3 of which were our friends) had to stay overnight there! So in that sense… the 3 of us on the direct flight were (relatively) lucky.
Driving home, nothing much had changed in KL.. I was in familiar territory again.. thought that was of little comfort. A friend had warned me about it, and I guess to a certain extent, I expected it to. I’m having some sort of post-overseas depression thingy.. That sinking feeling after being abroad and having the time of your life, to suddenly return home.. and reality bites.. work starts next week.. bills have to be paid.. have a runaway mom to take care of again.. etc etc….. blah blah blah.. blah blah blah…. I know I am not alone.. since by buddy keeps telling me he’s heart is still in Sheffield…. I know how it feels, because to me.. though I had gained to much.. I had left a piece of my heart back there with the friends I left behind. I know I will see them again… and that comforts me. But at the same time, there is the fear of drifting apart… but I guess… any lasting friendship or relationship would have to stand the test of time.. and friends of the heart never leave you.. even though you are far apart.
I have to keep pinching myself.. because suddenly these 3 months feels like a dream.. have I really been there and back again? Did those wonderful times really happen? Because it felt so good. Within the first day, I had my first reality check; my mother was in a relapse.. she had gone lepaking up north again.. and only returned last Saturday because she wants to see me.. She was being rather resistant.. and aggressive.. having punched my brother in the face. We suspect she’s going to take off again after seeing me. The other checks came when I realized I was dead broke.. my father is now interested in opening a goat farm… and my brother might be quitting his job soon and wants to open either a siew pao shop.. or tuition centre. Geeezz.. I was only away for 4 months.. whats with the goats and siew pao?
To continue reliving the past 3 months in my mind (what can I say, I dun move on that quickly) I kept looking the things I brought back, at my pictures from these past few months.. of cycling and hiking by the river in the Peak district.. of going to Paris and being conned.. of getting totally drunk and wasted in the hostel… of football Norfolk park and laying on the grass…. Of watching ManUtd vs Intermilan at Old Trafford… of visiting the charming seaside town of Whitby…and so many more… then there is the small beautiful bible I received from 2 friends in church.. with a short but sweet handwritten card inside from them.. “We notice you don’t have a bible with you.. that’s why.. So, bring it with you everywhere you go euhann..” she said to me.. I laughed.. and said to her I will.. And finally… there was this card I received from my dear friend.. who had graciously put up with us and our silly antics, and let us stay in her room in our final weeks at Sheffield. Its funny because, I had seen the card earlier.. She forgot to put it away when I was there.. but I didn’t realize it was for me. I was going to ask her who it was for.. but decided it was really none of my business, plus, it seemed kinda personal.. so I held my tongue… only to receive it 1 week later. Haha… Reading those neatly written words with the smileys here and there warmed my heart.... she thanked me for my support and encouragement.. and insist that I had taught her many things (when in fact she already had these qualities all along)… this card, this bible.. the only 2 personal gifts I received during my stay there.. are now invaluable to me.
Gosh.. I miss them so much.
Anywayz……. By the time I finished going through the pictures and gifts.. I was in a rather emo fuzzy, touchy feely mood (hug!).. I think I will probably need some time to get used to being back in Malaysia again…. The honeymoon is officially over.. but I’m not over the honeymoon yet… ~sigh~sigh~sigh~
Last day
The minute I stepped back into Sheffield, I felt I was home in away. The entire week spent walking around Paris and the southern part of England was enjoyable and refreshing.. but there there is nothing like the feeling of returning to something you are familiar with, someplace you call home, even if only for 3 months. I will tell you this; I grinned wider and my heart felt happier greeting the sight of Sheffield city than it was when I first laid eyes on the Eiffel.... because the Eiffel represented a physical wonder, a monument of human achievement... but sheffield was special to me for different reasons.. more special reasons.... sweet memories.. of people, of fellowship... of friends...yes... the friends, gosh I will miss them.
What a beautiful sunny Thursday morning it is, the kind that promises a wonderful day ahead, for my last day here in the UK, and here at Sheffield. I confess I am reluctant, I am heavy hearted. A friend said it all when she said these 3 months have been more like a honeymoon! I hadn't really thought of it in that way, but then it made everything make sense. It seems like all I have been talking about is leaving Sheffield.. instead of returning to Malaysia.. though the two are really one in the same. I guess that betrays how I truly feel inside.. As happy as I am to return, I am more reluctant to leave.
But I am more ready now that I was a week ago. I supposed I have to some point learned to accept the inevitable. It does not mean I wont be sad though. I wonder if there will be any tears shed, or how I would feel when the time comes..
But for now.. all I have is this wonderful day left ahead of me.. and the present is a gift for me.. It truly has been a fantastic three months.. It has literally been the time of my life here.. I will stop complaining about how short it was.. I will stop wishing I had more time... I will live today appreciating every moment.. every gesture, ever smile, every touch, every pat on the back, every laugh... And when all is said and done.. I will leave, carry all these memories with me. I will not say this is goodbye.. to my friends.. or Sheffield.. because I have hope that I will see it again. It will never be the same again.. but thats okay. If I live everyday, even if its just one day to the fullest, I will have nothing to regret.
Have a good day my friend.. I hope i Do!
Back from Paris
Im back from Paris...
As you well know, I was a rather down with the blues when I arrived at Paris.. my heart just wasn't in it at the time.. I was exhausted.. physically and emotionally. Got seriously wasted Friday night drinking with a bunch of friends and total strangers.. then cycling the entire day through the mountains on Saturday and spent Sunday going to church and visiting more times. Sunday night was busy packing my bags and literally singing the blues on a guitar! haha..
Monday morning at 6am I left for London, saying a temporary goodbye to some friends at the bus station... Ya, it was just a temporary goodbye.. But I spent a lot of time on the trip thinking about them... they had made my stay here so memorable.. Leaving Sheffield wasnt just about crossing borders anymore.. or about not being able to see the country side.. It was about leaving the company you were with! But for the moment, at least I was going back after my trip to Paris.
It was just the 2 of us going backpacking, and since my buddy was extremely bad at directions, the burden was on me to make sure we arrived properly in London and Paris, and not the middle of the Czech Republic (although that would have been quite an adventure too!). Priding myself with at least a respectable sense of direction, I was feeling rather confident. But in fact, we arrived at London totally dazed and confused. I couldn't even tell the difference between the subway and the train lines, or Victoria coach station from the actual Victoria station... all I could think of was getting to the toilet... and when I entered.. i thought I had entered the ladies.. before realising that it was unisex... :-p I had to call a friend up to ask directions.. and even then still felt a bit overwhelmed..
Anyway, to make a long long story short.. we ended up walking instead of taking the metro lines... with giant bags almost as big as us, weighing a stone.. (hey, its my first time ok) We went to Buckingham palace, the London eye, London Bridge, Trafalgar square.. saw Malaysia House, all the pretty parks Westminster abbey, London tower (which isnt really a tower at all if u ask me). and to my embarrassments, the bridge that I thought was London bridge was in fact.. tower bridge.. the one with the 2 point sides.. London bridge had in fact.. fallen down.. and the new one was just a normal flat bridge.. So.. ya... shame on me.. hehe..
By 8pm... we were exxhausted.... and over the phone.. I was banged left right and center by my friend for not sleeping the night before.... yes mummy.. im sorry.. But hey, its me suffering, not u! Wat da... We got on the bus 10pm sharp, and despite a bunch of stinky-drunkard-kilt-wearing-Scotsman having a mini party of their own right behind me, I slept like a baby... I was awoken once, when the French authorities had a peek at my passport.. They didnt even bother chopping a visa or whatever.. Later I found out that unlike the UK, the french are really really lax about entering their country. It was re-entering the UK that was the headache. Arriving at the bus station in Paris.... I suddenly found that I could understand they rail system better than the London one..even if it was all in French.. so we set out on the next 2 hour trying to find our God forsaken hostel.. which I booked without first checking its location.. because it was the cheapest la.. We took the train.. then the bus.. the walked another 1 to 2 miles.. before arriving at the hostel. At reception, the receptionist told me the eurolines coach station was really just a 5 minute bus ride away. We had taken a big round half through Paris for nothing. But what the heck, at least for for a moment there it felt like we were truly backpacking, not spoilt by the convenience of modern day facilities.
We were too exhausted d0 anything for the rest of the day, so we ended up just going to Carefour nearby to buy some food and an adapter for the laptop. I found it rather lame that our first day and night in Paris was spent entirely in the accommodation, but at the same time, I really needed to recuperate. On the bright side, we got to watch plenty of French TV.. and managed to learn a grand total a of 2 words.. Wi for yes, messi for thank you... yay. That was the time I was really feeling the blues and wrote the previous post. But I spoke to a friend online, and I suppose having some one to talk to always comforts you in a way, so I did feel marginally better after that. I allowed myself the rest of the night to wallow in self pity and nostalgia, determined that I would try to make the best of it the next day.
The next morning, with earphones stuck to my head, mp3 player loaded with my favourite songs, and a properly clean and rested body, I was ready to have a good day with my new found French skills... But somewhere at the back of my mind, there were still some hints of the blues that I wondered whether would go away.. or if whether I even wanted to go away.. But the minute I stepped off the train and set eyes on the Eiffel tower for the first time in my life, I was no longer singing the blues.. The sheer sight of it make me grin ear to ear.. This was it, this was why I had come all the way and spent all the money. We climbed all the way up to the second floor to see the breathtaking view of Paris... and we had our lunch up there, enjoying the moment and feeding the pigeons. I wished my friends were with me, but hey, I had my buddy with me, so I wasnt totally alone. Our visits to the rest of the landmarks were pretty much the same, the lourve, concorde, sacred cour, arc de triumphe were all nice to finally see in person.
But 2 incident remained in my mind... We were just about 1 mile away from the Concorde, sitting down on a bench, enjoying our sumptuous lunch of chocolate bread and honey crunchies when a young french girl, about 12 years (?) came up to us speaking in french, asking for our water. I wasnt sure if she just wanted a sip, or she wanted the while bottle, but seeing how that was our only bottle of water left, I wasn't about to share it with this rather demanding girl. I said no and no.. but she kept on asking.. to the point of actually insisting that we gave it to her. She stared at us for a full 10 seconds.... and the she spit on us.. well, at least at my friend, and before we could even react, she was speeding away, looking back at me. We were shocked.. having just being spit at in broad daylight! I helped my friend wash of the spit from his arm and cloths, and we werent even sure whether to feel sorry or angry at the poor girl. People do desperate things in desperate times, and though I was upset at what happened, she didnt really cause us any harm except perhaps a dented ego. Maybe she was homeless.. or maybe she was poor... whatever it was.. I kept thinking of that little girl and a few homeless people I saw the entire day.. Even in lush and posh Paris.. there were people in dire need... who had no place to stay or clean water to drink, with real life problems. What was I doing whining about then?
At another street, there was this street gamer.. inviting people to place bets for his game.. not sure what the name is.. but basically there are 3 round sheets, under one of is was a white marker. The man would swap the pieces around quickly and all you had to do was just guess the which one the marker was in. Fairly straight forward and simple. In a rash moment.. my friend place his only £20 to guess.. he and I were both convinced that we got the correct one.. we could have missed! But we missed.. and my friend was broke! So I took out my only £15 to help him win back him money.. and with both of us eyes fixed on the white marker.. we made second guess.. and missed again!! And we were both totally cashless except for the coins in our pockets! My friend was desperate to win back our money and bet our RM10 (what the?) and missed again!!! To our sheer bewilderment. I pulled my friend and we walked away. I was convinced that there was some trickery going on.. The 2 other players didnt seem just like bystanders. We were in a foreign land where people refused to speak English, and we were totally broke!
Conned and broke in the middle of Paris.. my friend and I suddenly burst out in laughter at our sheer stupidity and brashness. But both of us had our eyes on the same piece, we couldnt have been wrong! It mush have been them! Anyway, my buddy said to me at least it was a really expensive tuition in learning how not to gamble with street gamblers! I said it must have been something in our Chinese blood that made gambling seem to irresistible all of a sudden. But it is the first and last time I will even gamble my money... anywhere.
Thank God for ATMs and international banks, because we managed to extract some cash out from our British accounts.. and we were in safe waters again.
Returning to the UK proved a harder than coming into France..and we had to get down in the middle of the night at the border to meet the British immigration... They asked a hundred and one questions and insisted to see our return flight to Malaysia... and we were delayed for about 15 minutes....
As I write this, I am in fact at my girlfriend's aunts place, relaxing and recuperating, enjoying their hospitality and just staying at home after 5 days of intense walking and walking.. I will return to Sheffield tomorrow and by the weekend.. its ape khabar wahai negarku again, dah makan belum?
Turbulent hearts in Paris
I write this right at the outskirts of the heart of Paris.. yes I am in Paris.. but it hasnt really turned out the way I thought it would (at least for now)..
We arrived in Paris early in the morning.. I hardly slept the night before and the previous 3 days were intense moments of emotional goodbyes and hugs for friends leaving... of going to Church for the last time.. of seeing some people for the last time.. of visiting places for the first (and last) time... bicycle tracking through the peak district... as you can see.. its been a rather emotional last few days for me..
Maybe it was the 7 hour bus ride from London.. maybe it was because I was hungry and dirty.. or maybe it was because I was just emotionally burnt out, but the moment I stepped into Paris.. I wished I was in Sheffield instead. My heart just isnt here....yet
Sure, Id like to see the Eiffel tower.. the Notre Dame cathedral and all those stuff.. but all i could think of was sitting down for dinner with my friends at Weatherspoons.. playing football at Norfolk park.. buying a dozen bottles of yogurt at Nettos supermarket and chatting with friends after Sunday service... I missed it.. I felt as if I was loosing all those things.. I was.... and my heart just wasnt in this trip.
It doesn't really matter where you are but who you are with.. Just 2 of us guys being here in Paris... the city of lovers.. it just doesnt feel right.. I shared with a friend... I'd rather be in Parit Buntu with friends than here in Paris and missing everything I left behind.
My only consolation is that I will be returning to Sheffield on the 18 for one final time.. to pick up my luggage and return home to Malaysia.. after that.. I will have no consolation.. and I will somehow have to find a way to cope with this sense of lost that I am going through right now. Flashbacks of all the wonderful time from these 3 months keep coming to my mind.... last sunday was my last sunday at this church in sheffield... the one that made me so comfortable.. so at home.. so welcomed and loved.. and I never wanted the day to end.. But end it did...
I seek solace. I need to find a way to calm my aching heart.. I need to find the strength.. what more.. the willingness to let this wonderful period of time to pass me by so that I can move on.. How long will I continue to feel this way before my heart accepts the situation.. embraces the change and go on being happy? It matters not to my heart whether I am in London, Paris... or dare I say.. Sheffield.... what matters are the people I feel I am leaving behind.. how do I willingly let go without feeling like I am giving it up?
Off to London & Paris
Dear friend,
Sorry for the last minute notice, but I'm off to London then Paris for the week!
Yay....
So that means little entries from me!
Im a bit excited about visiting Paris.. but still a bit gloomy about leaving... sigh~~
But ill be back posting as soon as I can! In the mean time, take care and God bless you wherever you are!
From
Me
Oh Ah Beng..
In our 3 months here, there has been this guy we all refer to as 'ah beng' rather derogatorily. He has been the odd ball with little or no friends ever since coming here, and his fame (or notoriety) was seal the day
this video came out, along with a few other accompanying ones.
I never knew who he was, where he came from, only that he was a course mate of a friend, had little friends and could always bee seen walking around alone in the hostel accommodation. From the time I was here, I have always observed him, and to confirm what my friends said to me, he was usually alone and when he was not, the people around him were busy trying to avoid him. On one occasion, he just tagged along with my friends and I when we were going out to eat, even though we didn't actually invite him.. He just so happened to be there. Worst of all, whenever we were at school organised events or parties, he could always be seen walking around hurriedly, as if he has something important to do. I found this amusing, annoying yet sad at the same time. What was he doing walking around like that? Who is he trying to convince that he wasnt there alone?
I never gave much thought to him and every time he appeared, we would merely say "There he is.." and we would just glance, look away and roll our eyes at one another.
It wasn't until a few days ago that I saw this poor fellow in a different light. It was midnight, and I was walking to a friends room in the accommodation alone and there he was. He was just standing around the bush, and walking about. I though he would talk to me, seeing how we did 'have dinner together' so to speak. He did speak as I walked by, only it wasnt to me.. and there wasnt anyone else around. He looked un-kept, and he had not shaved at least a week, and he was talking to himself on a chilly midnight out in the open.. I was wearing 2 layers of clothing, and I was still freezing. He gave no heed to me, and I walked on. Later I found out that he has been trying for quite a few years to qualify coming to the UK summer course, and succeeded only recently.
But what I saw for just those few seconds was enough to keep me disturbed. I had not considered it before, but the moment I looked into his eyes, saw that blank reflection and heard those self directed words, I knew. I had seen it before in my own mother. She too had times when she would wander off alone aimlessly and talk to herself without paying much attention to those around her. This was not normal behaviour. Normal people dont usually talk to themselves out in the cold. I spoke to my friend, and she confirmed that it was not an unusual sight seeing him alone downstairs.
I felt a pang of sadness and guilt. I had belittled this guy over the 3 months. I had considered him an outcast, someone that does not fit him. I couldnt help but wonder why he was the way he was. Why didnt he grow up a bit and be a little less.. well.. kampung.... as it were.. I was mean.. not to him.. but in my thoughts towards him. And suddenly, seeing him in his vulnerable state, the situation hit home to me, to a place so close to my heart. He needed help, not of the physically type, but of the mind, and of the heart. Thoughts of my own mother came flooding in. Without realising it, I had just antagonized someone who was in a way, not unlike my mother. I have always despised people who didnt know better, who knew nothing of the suffering other people go through, who live in ignorance of the kinds of battles others face, inwardly or outwardly. And I found myself at that end... dishing out the kind of ignorant words I usually condemn.
Those close to him, his parents must know his state, and yet they chose to spend their hard earned money to come to the UK.. they had faith in him.. The 2 friends you see carrying our drunken friend home, they too knew perfectly well, and they literally lent a helping hand, and in doing so, were being a friend to him.
I feel as if I have wronged him, not in action, not in words, but in thought. How could I be so ignorant? How could I be so judgmental, of all in this matter of mental illness? Why did I not recognize it sooner, and in doing so avoid discriminating this poor guy?
He acted abnormally. He did not fit in. He had no friends. People avoided him because they found him strange, they found him annoying because he did not conform to our social etiquette and ways. They were afraid of him because they didn't understand him. My mother faces the same thing day in and day out. And in treating this guy in this manner, I feel as if I have done it against my own mother.
