It is not that I wish to dig up my past, but there are certain lessons we can learn from my experiences in my youth.
You would have too, if your school were full of rich bastards (yes, the memory still hurts me whenever I recall it. Never have I been able to forgive and forget those years).
It all started in my secondary school, which happened to be a very chinese oriented school, supposedly with reputable rankings (around 25 to 28 each time) in the whole Singapore. Many rich parents chose it to deliver secondary education to their precious sons and daughters, whom seem to tot fanciful items flagrantly. Pagers, cell phones (remember, they were not hot back in 1999), Tamagotchi, the whole works.
I happened to be without those status items.
They started to tease me, first about how fat I was (I did look flabby then, but I was not that FAT!). They started calling me names like "action packed fatty", "fat-ass", "pig-whore", etc.
I actually took that into my stride, and ignored them. That's when the real trouble started. Those f****ts (sorry, I don't usually get so worked up) started throwing stuff at me in class. They hurled 5 cent coins when the teacher wasn't looking, they shot rubber band at my back during chinese lessons, and stole my stuff when I wasn't looking. In fact, it got so bad that I couldn't do my work. It was a surprise that I managed to pass decently that year.
My teachers tried to consel me: they just want attention, they have too much money to flaunt (you know the routine). But I got angry enough that I swore to do better than them, and show them that I was the boss. I pushed myself, stayed back in class after lessons are over, went through my work many times before I allowed myself to go home, and got acquainted with like-minded friends (whom also liked to stay back to study), who eventually helped me get over those people, and concentrate on my work. I didn't want those people to detract me from my life. In the end, these new friends of mine gave me an affectionate nickname: iron-assed. I didn't mind it a bit. In fact, I thought it cute that they imagined I could stop a 5 tonner truck with my backside.
But the most important thing that happened was I never gave up. I didn't look hard enough at first, but there exist people who actually quietly support you: you just had to look hard, and then those ^$&&%*# (sorry, here I go again) won't get on you anymore. That is what I gained through my secondary school life.
Perhaps those people (the f****ts) might have been a catalyst for me doing so well in my O levels. I didn't do so well for my A levels, partly because I was not motivated enough. Nowadays, I keep losing whenever I go to play WarCraft with my platoon mates during our Wednesday nights off camp. In fact, I am so weak that they were at level 20 while I languished at level 11. No matter. I am now training to beat them, and when I do, I would love to see their faces :-).
Here goes my life story. To the person I wrote this post for, I personally really wish that you won't do it, even though you don't realise it. I think we have gone through too much for you to do that. Persevere. I went through something like what you are going through now. Now's not the time to stop.
