Rite of Passage (Continued…)
Chapter 5: When we’re All Superheroes
Ever wondered what the world would be like if it were to be filled with superheroes? Well, I believe all of us are superheroes, not in the aspect that we fight crime with our superpowers. Rather I meant it in the sense of being in a masquerade party.
Maybe superheroes aren’t as strong as we thought of them to be. Or at least not many people would know about what lies behind the mask. For Peter Parker there was Mary Jane, For Bruce Wayne there was Rachel Dawes. Ever wondered who would unmask you?
Perhaps in our lifetime, we’re all waiting for that special someone to unmask us. To understand us and to love us for whom we are. However, often when the mask is removed it not necessarily leads to a chain of happy events, sometimes when unmasked you might actually get to see the ugly side of a particular super hero. Many people get frightened and run off at the true sight of certain heroes. In my opinion those people aren’t the real ones that are destined to unveil your mask.
Love isn’t exactly milk chocolate; it’s more like dark chocolate. Bitter-sweet, get what I mean? It consists of tolerance, understanding, sacrifices and all that. Sometimes, I fear that dark chocolate can get too bitter.
Chapter 6: And just like that Woofie, Teddy and Banjo went missing
Things happened too fast even though I was told beforehand. When I reached home 2 days back during my weekend book out, things were no longer the same as it used to be. The air was intoxicated with loneliness, I guess things will never be the same as it used to be. On the 21st October 2009, my sister left Singapore to further her studies in Australia.
Despite the 6 years age gap, me and my sister got along really well. We would talk about school, games and almost everything else. We shared the same room for many years, even though we fought over many stuff like the snacks, the massage chair and the computer but still we are still as close as ever and I love my sister.
I wasn’t a good brother; I did many mean things to her when we were younger. I was the over-conceited, domineering, scheming, arrogant, Sore-loser, tyrannical and selfish brat. If you knew me when I was a kid, I was totally badass you would have called me the little tyrant king. Currently, many memories flash by me, memories that strike me with sadness. I recall the pillow fights, the slamming, the ice cream man, the airport, Duchess, the times when she got scolded, the times when she asked “Why are you guys” fighting.
As a kid, my sister was what you would call the perfect little girl that every parent would want. She was extremely cute, well behaved, sensible, kind hearted, hard working and she never held a grudge with anyone and she loved drawing! Imagine an older brother cheating his 6 year old kid sister of her $5 savings to buy ice cream. Pathetic isn’t it? She would ask her parents, “Why are you guys fighting? It’s scaring me.” Imagine a K2 kid telling her parents that.
If anyone were to be blamed for who she is now, it would be me, or at least that’s what I think. She’s conscious of her weight and it’s my fault because I was a glutton stuffing the both of us with endless bags of potato chips when we were really young. If anyone were to complain that she was a tom-boy, it would probably be because she had a brother who influenced her to play the computer too much. If anyone were to blame her for being so rebellious it would be because you people don’t understand what it means by “circumstances mould you to become who you eventually be”.
Despite how badass I was, there too were times when I really wanted to be a good brother. For instance when I threatened to beat up the kids who bullied her at school, calling up the bully at school and talking them and their parents, to comfort her when she was scolded by mom or dad, to buy her gifts with most of my left over money I had during primary school, playing G’s, exploring all the fun stuff like what camping would be like, to teach her the right moral values that will enable her to draw a fine line between right and wrong.
(The first time I called home during BMT, I felt a great sense of homesickness, but it wasn’t talking to mom or dad that made me felt like crying. It was talking to you. You were more than a best friend, you are what I call a sister.)
Going to Australia would do you good. At least that was what everyone said. It was time you grew up to become who you have to be, to become the independent, well mannered, confident adult whom would eventually outshine her brother. I wonder if we would ever talk as much as used to do, I wonder if we would ever play consoles together again, I wonder what effect time would have on us.
Even though I am extremely sad that she had to leave, but I guess the one who would be filled with even greater sadness would be dad. After all that Wednesday would probably be the last time he would ever see her again.
(In case you were wondering who Woofie, Teddy and Banjo were, they’re the names of some of the soft toys that my sister keeps by her bed.)
the origin.12:50 AM