Anima: part two
Part 2
It’s not the first time. I know what comes next…
I’ll get more nervous, then change all the answers I doubt, and then…
Time will run out!
And that’s exactly what happened. The supervisor announced that time was up, so I hurried to finish the few things left, then left the exam hall.
. . .
“Lian, hey girl, why aren’t you answering? Can you still hear me? I’m asking how your exam went?”
My mother’s voice pulled me out of the well of my thoughts, but I failed to hold myself together any longer…
And exactly what I expected happened.
I felt every bad emotion as if it had just struck me, not back then.
My body began to tremble, and tears streamed down my face.
I’m always like this… pretending to be strong when I most need help, only to collapse in front of the last person I want to see me break!
But there’s nothing I can do…
“M–Mom… the exam was bad… I think I won’t make it to the top ten this year either…”
“What? Are you joking, girl? And who was it that said she wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again? Oh my God, I can’t believe this. You’re just good at talking, nothing more. Useless! Maybe if you hadn’t gone to university and married early, you’d be better off now…”
My mother cut off my broken words with a sudden flood of scolding and blame pouring into my ears.
That reproachful tone she uses…
It makes me feel more and more ashamed. I hate myself when she speaks to me like that, and I know it affects me negatively even though I know she means well. So…
“Alright, goodbye Mom. I’ll call you when I get on the train.”
That’s how I ended the call, stared into the void for two seconds, then… burst into tears!
….
Why does this happen every time?
If only…
If only I were firmer in my choices,
If only I could control my anxiety and tension,
If… if only my mother were more understanding, able to hold me instead of me wrapping my own arms around myself while sobs escape me like someone pitiful…
What now… what now, Lian?
. .
After about five minutes, I stood up, wiping the traces of my salty tears, then went to finish what I had left.
I changed into comfortable light jeans and a short blue patterned dress — maybe?
I don’t really know, but it reached my knees. I don’t even know what to call a sleeveless dress that widens from the waist down to the knees, and honestly, I don’t care.
Now I stand before the public mirror, fixing my hair, my reflection meeting me from head to waist. Funny enough, another girl stands beside me, but only her head shows.
I don’t know why, but the height difference between me and some girls always makes me laugh. Am I strange? Maybe!
.
I finished tidying my hair, took two strands from both sides, tied them at the back, and left the rest loose.
That’s how I usually like it — my hair free and flowing — but today is stormy. I don’t want it bothering me, especially since I love sitting by the window. So, once I tightened the knot behind me, I hurried to the room to find Rose ready too, her bags packed, probably waiting for me so we could leave together for home.
Yes… Rose was the first to enter my heart “by force,” really. Maybe she’s the only one here I don’t have to put much effort into protecting myself around.
We’re peers, but she studies Applied Arts while I study Electronic Media. We also share the same room with two others, and luckily, we’re from the same hometown — so I don’t have to travel to university alone.
There’s Rose, who always makes my days easier.
. . .
My suitcase hit my big toe while I was trying to lift it into the car trunk that would take us to the station, and it hurt a lot… but what hurt more was…
The rebellion of a single salty tear escaping my eye — proof that I’ve failed to contain my pain, inside and out.
I left the suitcase, held my toe after taking off my shoe, letting my tears flow freely down my face as a few sobs escaped me.
It’s not the first time my mother has said those words to me… but it seems my well has finally overflowed!
“Lia, dear, I think your mom didn’t mean what she said. You know why?”
Rose came from behind, leaving her bags after noticing my state, grabbing my heavy suitcase as she spoke while loading it into the car.
I know she’s good at reading situations, and I almost know what she’s trying to tell me, but… I’m tired.
So I played along, wiping my tears and leaning on the car to face her as she loaded the rest of the luggage.
“Why, oh wise psychologist?”
“Because your mother knows you’ve been working hard all this time just to stay with them there, so you don’t have to live far away. She knows you hate loneliness and don’t plan to stay away from them forever. And guess what? Your mother wants that even more than you do! She knows you’re uncomfortable with your current situation, and she’s standing helpless, unable to help you — that makes her feel powerless. So, in truth, her anger might be anger at herself first. Her worry for you made her express it wrongly. That’s why she hasn’t called yet to check on you — maybe she can’t face you right now.”
“Wonderful… so now I have to call her to comfort her?”
I asked with sharp sarcasm, since she had just turned my emotions against me — and what I got in return was a confident nod, as if she were saying, ‘Exactly what I meant to say!’
I take it back… I hate Rose!
We got into the car afterward, and it drove us straight to the train station since there wasn’t much time left before departure.
The funny thing is, my mother actually called Rose to check on us. I watched Rose beside me reassuring her, telling her we were almost at the station, while a mischievous expression played across her face.
I know Rose’s facial language well…
She was telling me now, “See? From now on, you’ll follow my advice.”
You wish, witch. I ignored her and looked out the window, watching the road.
In truth…
Everything Rose said was wonderful, and I know it. But maybe I’m just tired of constantly interpreting people’s actions so I don’t misunderstand them or fall into a spiral of blame that gives me nothing.
Why can’t I be less cautious when talking to others, less thoughtful about them?
Can’t I choose myself, just once?
I know my mother didn’t mean it, and she has every right to vent her feelings on me — but what about those who don’t have that right?
Everyone!
I’m tired of waiting for the moment I’ll explode…
Can’t I just do it now?
