On the 15th of August, I shall have been alive for 20 years and 9 months. My mother carried me to full term, so that should be kinda exact. 20+ years… now that’s something isn’t it?
What do I have to show for it though?
I don’t know if I could properly list down the moments that have defined my existence, or the parts of it that I remember. Memories of being young are merely vague shadows in my mind. One that I remember from when I used to stay in USJ when I was about 2 is playing this silly game with my brother; I’d be the Queen, my blanket as my cape and he’d have to carry my cape around. We’d keep walking until we got tangled up and burst into laughter. We had such nonsensical games as kids. We used to lie on our backs in the backseat of the car and stare at the clouds describing them; we used to hide behind the front seats, trying to be inconspicuous so we would not be seen by people that we drove past.
When we moved to Sabah, I distinctly remember having a bathroom that was between two rooms. My parents used to hide Smarties in the top shelf of the cupboards in their room so we would not get to them. Aaron and I had this play area that you had to climb up a ladder to get to. It was a curious little place that was a good few meters off the ground. He would make up passwords that I had to guess before I was allowed to climb up. Sometimes, Aaron would take away the ladder. I stabbed my hand with a pencil in Tawau. I remember that distinctly. You can still see traces of the lead on my palm now. I remember hiding the little figurines in the potted plants. I went to a Chinese kindergarten for a year then. It was awful. First of all, I barely had friends and I didn’t use Mandarin at home. I didn’t enjoy my time there at all. My brother sat for PTS in Tawau, even though he was a year younger because he started class earlier and got straight A’s.
We moved back to Peninsula Malaysia after that, to Klang where I started Standard 1 at the age of 5 going on 6. But that’s a story for another time.