• When Fate plays a Game…I

    Chapter I

    “I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
    I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
    Staring at the blank page before you
    Open up the dirty window
    Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
    Reaching for something in the distance
    So close you can almost taste it
    Release your inhibitions
    Feel the rain on your skin
    No one else can feel it for you
    Only you can let it in
    No one else, no one else
    Can speak the words on your lips
    Drench yourself in words unspoken
    Live your life with arms wide open
    Today is where your book begins
    The rest is still unwritten”

    I sing the song ‘Unwritten’ by Natasha Beddingfield in the morning, as soon as I get up from bed. I turn the music player on and go straight to the shower. I carelessly take off my clothes and dance in the shower as if I’m a diva in a concert or perhaps a showgirl dancing to delight my audience.

    I like the song because it reminds me that I write my own destiny and every day is a new day. I like the song because it is telling me that I should open my heart and welcome the changes in life. The song reminds me that it’s just okay to make mistakes and I shouldn’t be afraid of what life will bring…

    This is because I’m a control freak. I’m an obsessive compulsive seventeen year old girl. I’m a perfectionist. I get depressed and frustrated when things don’t go the way I planned or when some bad things happen in my life.

    Two years ago, my older sister Jennifer died of cancer. She was the A student. The pet of the family. The prom queen. The perfect daughter and sister to me. She was beautiful and had big dreams but she died young. My parents were terribly heartbroken. From that time on, they seemed to forget that they still have another daughter—me. This brought me to cut my wrist once because of mere frustration, and loneliness. Yes, I saw my blood come out of my wrist. But guess what? When I saw blood come out of my wrist, I suddenly realized that it was eeky and ugly, and I didn’t want to die with blood all over me so I grabbed a towel near me in the bathtub, and wrapped my arm around it as I sobbed.

    I was crying because of mixed feelings. I was sad and angry. I was frustrated with my parents. I was feeling alone. I didn’t understand why my sister had to die so young; and why she had to leave me with my busy busy rich parents who just provide me with material cold things. I was sad because I needed warmth of a family. I was sad because nothing could make me happy. I was grieving because not even so much money that my parents can easily produce could not extend my sister’s life. I was sad because I was alone and my parents somehow forgot that I still exist. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t live up to my sister to make my parents happy. I was angry because I couldn’t make up my mind what to do with ME.

    I went out of the bathtub still sobbing and called my gay best friend, Lenard, who lives in a mansion beside our house.
    “Lenard, god, good thing you’re there! You have to come here,” I said feeling a bit cold.
    “What’s up?” He casually said on the phone. “Have you already initiated your plan on a dramatic suicide?”
    “Would you believe it, I really did!” I said sarcastically. “ I need you here now, ok?” I said demandingly.
    I didn’t hear Lenard respond to me. I just heard that the receiver hit something and realized the tree on my window was moving. It was Lenard coming up the tree near my window.
    Yes, although we both live in a hi-tech generation, we somehow forget that there is an access or entry in a house called door. Most of all, growing together did not help us learn that there is a thing called stairs and elevators, which are already an innovation invented way before we were born that can make our life more convenient.
    Growing up with this handsome best friend of mine sometimes make me regret that he is gay. My family moved in near their house when I was 11 years old. We instantly became friends. I guess because of law of gravity. Negative plus positive is I don’t know what. But he is all positive about life. He knows what he is and knows what he wants, at the age of 11 years old. He wants to be the president of their family company. He wants to be like his mother, the president of an oil company. Anyway, I should not ogle over Lenard because he is my best friend. My 'sister'.
    “Hurry Leo,” I said sitting on the floor.
    Leo pulled me up and carried me.
    “This is the benefit when you go to the gym. Carrying a mademoiselle in distress!” I teased. “Oh Lenard, my gay hero!” I added.
    “You are crazy and stupid!” He was anxious. “ If you wanna die, make sure you are up for it.” He scolded as he opened the door of my room and went down the stairs.
    My nanny Sienna, who is already in her mid-60s, gasped as she saw me with blood on my shirt. “ Oh my god!” She said and did not know which one to do first. Help Lenard bring me to hospital or to phone my parents. But she figured that it would be best to bring me first to the hospital.
    As they put me at the back seat of the car with Nanny Sienna, Lenard tried to calm down because he couldn’t start the car.
    “ Don’t panic guys. It’s just a little cut, you know.” I said, and blacked out.