Veratrum Woodii

An old “friend” of mine recognised my mum and I today, while we were on the way home from a very brief shopping trip (I needed to get a gift for a dear friend of mine, whose birthday is coming up very very soon). I call her a “friend” and not a friend because she was a mate of mine in the same student care centre when we were in primary school. We weren’t exactly close, only sticking together because we were the only ones of the same age. It’s a survival instinct, you know? Strength in numbers and all that. If you don’t get it then you probably never will, that’s okay. Anyway, her name was Ting Yin.

She struck up a very enthusiastic conversation with my mum (known to us as Ms Nancy when she was our teacher and guardian in the student care), talking about her school (she’s starting her second year in Singapore Polytechnic next week) and her job and her family… And for some reason, I felt somewhat defensive towards her, like she was some enemy.

I had no reason to be hostile, I know. I mean, she was someone I stuck with for about 2, 3 years in the student care, and even though we weren’t close, we were people who would hang out with each other because we were pretty much all we had in that student care class. But we weren’t close at all. There was no connection. And it wasn’t until later on in the conversation she was having with my mum that I realised why I was feeling so hostile.

I was jealous.

I couldn’t believe it. Me, jealous? Completely impossible. Although jealousy would explain the hateful glares I was sending her when she wasn’t looking.

I guess… I was afraid, you know? Whenever I see the people from my old student care, it’s like all my defences go way up.

If they’re working at the moment, I have to be taking a break because I’m going to start my 6-month internship next week.

If they’re in their second year of poly life, I have to be in my third year.

If they’re happy in their business course, I have to be happy in my masscomm course.

If they’ve got loads of friends, I have to have more. I have to have better friends, people who genuinely care for me, people like my sister and my close friends.

If their grades are good, mine have to be better.

If they’re skinny, I have to be skinnier.

I can’t stop comparing myself to them. It’s like no matter how good their lives are at the moment, my life has to be so much better. I have to be absolutely perfect compared to them. I'm not saying that everything in my life is for the sole purpose of comparison. I genuinely care about the people in my life. They really do mean that much to me. But when I meet these people from my past, it's like everything gets blocked out. I have to convince myself that no matter what, my life has got to be better than theirs.

My mum has been teaching this batch of kids for so long, and she’s always so fond of them. Everyone always loves Ms Nancy; everyone always remembers her. No one ever remembers her daughter because she was never important enough to be remembered. I’m always afraid that my mum will take a step back and look at me, and look at them, and wonder why and how she ended up with such a worthless piece of shit for a daughter, and wish she could have one of the student care kids as her children instead.

I’m not street-smart like Ting Yin.

I’m not book-smart like Adriel.

I’m not gentle and fragile and dainty and feminine like Clarissa.

I’m not a hardworking success rags-to-riches story like Kian Ann or Sharmaine.

I’m not like them at all.

And I’m scared, so fucking scared that she’ll look at them and love them instead and not want me anymore. Whenever I see them, I slip on my fake smile and pretend to be the perfect daughter that they wish they could be. I want to make them jealous of the life I pretend to have because I want them to know how I feel – jealous of them and their lives. I quietly compare myself to them. Do their thighs touch? Mine don’t either, but why do their thighs look so toned and tanned while I look like a fat white whale? Their hair’s long. Well, I used to have long hair too, you know, then I went to cut it off because my sister said she knew a really good style for me, plus I was bored of my long hair anyway. Oh, you don’t wear glasses now? Well, neither do I. I’ve changed, you know. Changed more than you could ever hope to understand.

I’m so scared because I’m afraid that my mum will look at me and go, “Well, she’s not very bright, and she’s not street-smart either – she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own if she had to. She doesn’t act like a girl – I don’t know how many times I’ve nagged at her to buy something in a colour that isn’t black. She’s not very athletic either, she’s not like those girls who go running everyday or play netball or swim. And she’s so lazy too. How many times have I yelled at her to do her chores? It’s so irritating to have her as a daughter. I wish Ting Yin was my daughter instead. It’s okay if her English isn’t very good, I’d prefer her to that stuck-up piece of shit I have for a daughter anyway.”

Can you imagine how afraid I am? This is the biggest reason why I don’t like running into them, the biggest reason why if I ever happen to see any of them in the streets I just walk past them and pretend that I don’t recognise them – 7 years is a long time, after all.

And when I do run into them and have no choice but to acknowledge that yes, I do recognise them, and gosh it’s been a long time, how’ve they been, how’s life, where’re they studying, how’re their parents, is everything all right with them, it’s so good to see them yada yada yada, can you imagine that a million thoughts are coursing through my mind, analysing every single thing that I’m doing and trying its best to correct all my flaws, all my imperfections?

I’m wearing shorts and a cropped top – oh god, what if they think I’m a slut? I knew I shouldn’t have worn this out.

My hair is short now and I didn’t try to style it or anything – what if it’s messy? They’ll judge me, I know they will.

It’s been a long day and I didn’t wear any makeup or anything – I look DISGUSTING.

I’m carrying bags of shopping – what if they think that I spend a lot of money? I bet they didn’t spend any money at all. I bet they’re amazing children to their parents and I bet they love them. I bet they never fight with their parents.

Can you imagine how scared I get when I run into them? I try to show some confidence, bring out the charm and self-confidence, and try my best to play the game – it’s a big game of Oh Look, My Life’s Better Than Yours By This Much, and I know they’re playing it too.

I hate it.

It’s because of them that I’m scared to introduce my mum to my other friends too. What if she takes a special shine to them and likes them better than me? I don’t play the Life game with my friends because I know that I don’t need to, we all love one another and no one’s life is better or worse, but I’m still scared.

I’m not tall and gorgeous like Tish.

I’m not motherly and nurturing like Jo.

I’m not smart like Juls.

I’m not sweet like Jane.

I love my friends, and I definitely won’t mind introducing them to my mum, but the anxiety will never leave me.

Because what if she really happens to love them more than she’ll ever love me?

What if?