I think it all started when I was born.
Maybe the astrology people were right. Maybe your fate is directed by whichever star you’re born under, on whichever date you took your first breath.
If so, I imagine that every other baby born alongside me 23 years ago isn’t doing well right now. I wish I could find them, make a support group together- maybe they’d understand me, for a change.
I grew up pretty normally. I remember getting stung by fire ants in my house, watching the occasional toucan on the trees outside, and cycling to the wet market at 7am.
When we were bored we played tikam-tikam, and winning just half a ringgit was enough to make my day. Our house was small, our village had only one internet access port, and we were happy.
I’m typing this from the 60th floor of the financial district right now, where I’m working, and the view is amazing. If I had stayed in my village, I would never have believed that buildings could grow higher than 10 stories.
Growing up in Singapore was different. Wayyy different. You often hear that the city moves faster, but I don’t think that’s exactly true; the city only moves with urgency, because everything matters now. If you’re not moving, you’re flatlining. Get good grades, join a good club, get a good internship, and buy a happy life. The Singaporean guide to success.
Honestly, I prefer it to my village. We grew up poor, and in Malaysia I envied the rich for their luck. Here in Singapore I was poor too, but only for a while; here the rationality of meritocracy pushed me up, higher than I thought possible- 59 stories, to be exact.
I genuinely can’t pinpoint when my life started running on these tracks, or when I realised that I was born to suffer. Perhaps it was 23 years ago, under that star. Maybe it was all those nights I covered my ears as my parents fought in my room. I wonder if that changed my brain’s chemistry at all.
Maybe it was when my parents abandoned me in a forest at 2am. Maybe it was when I was sent to the ER by my brother. Maybe it was when I realised the undercurrent of discomfort running through me every second of every hour of every day was called gender dysphoria.
Whatever the reason, it’s all fallen into place like Tetris, and it feels like my game is ending. The ceiling is coming for me, and as the odds stack against me I cannot help but feel blessed. I walk through life isolated from troubles, materially rich and spiritually alone. Nothing will ever touch me like it did again.
I walk through life isolated. Nothing will ever touch me again.
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