Honestly, even when the girls have accepted me back, sometimes I feel like I don't have the rights to be in their circle. I had, after all, abandoned them for more than a year, after four years of friendship. Where does that put me? My action was heartless.
And why did I skip school a lot when I left this clique of girlfriends? Because I didn't have friends, obviously because the class was already full of their own cliques. I never belonged anywhere. Even when I had spent my time in Sec 4 recording our memories, even when the guys and the other girls from the class had approached me to be in the camera, I was not part of them. In 2012, I was just a classmate who had decided to isolate herself.
There was also a time when I realised that I was close to a social outcast, even when I had tried so hard to be normal when I went into tertiary education. Even my closest friends managed to get along with the rest of the class; and, deep inside, I knew that everyone accepted everyone except for me. They rejected me, whether or not I was being myself.
Even when I hung out in the usual clique of five, I obviously didn't belong. Three different races together, but we were a strength of odd number, and one of us was bound to be left out. It was always me. Maybe because I was the only Malay. Where did I stand? Nowhere. I was invisible.
When the prince brings me out with his friends, I'm always more than happy because it means a lot if your other half introduces you. And don't get me wrong, I really enjoy the company of his tertiary mates, but again, despite knowing they accept me, I am well aware that I don't belong.
Not to mention my trips to Geylang, especially if I'm alone. During Ramadan I frequently headed to Geylang, and yes, I feel like I don't belong. I've always been mistaken for a Chinese, and due to my anxiety, I'm always thinking that the Malays around me would be wondering of my presence there.
And what about my fashion sense? I'm not a fashionista, definitely not the kind who follows current trends. But I love wearing skinnies and cardigans, something which covers my arms and legs. Where does that put me in this society? It's not like I wear headscarves either. You either cover up, or you don't. I'm stuck in the middle. I don't belong anywhere.
Back when I was still a Pasir Ris girl, it never felt like I belonged in my family either. My parents were very open people, always making their respective workplaces lively. And while my brothers have always been, well, boys, either on their PS3 or at the void deck playing soccer, I would sit in a corner quietly reading a book.
Right from my childhood I've always been best friends with a girl cousin from my father's big family. He had many siblings, which means we had a lot of cousins. Among all of them, the closest to me were of course those of the nearest age group. The girl cousin and a boy cousin are of the same age, while another boy cousin is a year younger than us. It was almost always the four of us.
But maybe because the girl cousin was the link. If she wasn't able to attend a family gathering, or if her family hadn't turned up yet, I would remain in a corner minding my own business while the two boys sat at the other side of the house talking with each other. It was only after the girl cousin came that she would pull the four of us together.
The boy cousin of the same age just followed me on Instagram today, and after doing a bit of stalking, I realised I was right. He had taken a picture with the girl and the other boy cousin, caption saying that they've always been his favourite cousins. I never belonged.
Never. Not anywhere.
Not a great post to start off the month, but whatever. To heck with it, nobody's going to read this anyway. I'll write tomorrow if I have anything to say about the oh-so-joyous month of September.
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