Colour pencil diaries.

One thing about study week is that the independence also serves to heighten my sense of isolation.

I had a nostalgic evening. I discovered that I was a kiasu baby who wanted to be first in everything. I was the first of us three siblings to talk, to walk, to read (my sister: "no wonder your English is better than mine"). I was also (unfortunately) the most hiao, conditioned to pose perpetually for the camera.

I still want to be first, in pretty much everything. A+, not A. Champion, not runner-up. Perfectionist tendencies die hard.

I flipped through photo albums of my childhood, colour pencil diaries, a collection of blank cards, certificates.

Today I was pretty disgruntled because I honestly thought I'd made an effort to come to church. Walked there in ill-fitting sandals in the rain because I felt it would be deceptive to no-show using Elliott's baby shower as an excuse, but got berated for coming late/not informing Cindy about Congre/not bringing my Bible. Sigh. I sometimes think Cindy has higher expectations of me than she does of the other girls. Itt's just that I really wish I had someone to empathise with me.

That's what love is about, isn't it? It isn't about having a witness to your life (goodness knows I have too many reading my other blog). Or the heady intoxication of infatuation. Pared down to the bare essentials, it's about feeling wanted.

I frankly dislike the idea of having to pay seven bucks for Yam's present. It is a bag imported from the Gap. I'm not even buddybuddy with her anymore, and she only just returned from uh, spiritual hiatus, to put it nicely. I don't even see her around nowadays, and when I do, she and Eleta hobnob and I end up feeling so left out of the loop. I'd rather spend that much on someone closer to me, like Valey or Laoniang or even Meowies.

It just seems that everyone fawns over Yam. She's always been the popular girl. Everyone loves her. Even when she went missing in action for a year. Got together with another girl's boyfriend. Now we splurge out on this expensive gift for her.

For what?

I feel like the sister of the prodigal daughter. Here I am, struggling to stay on, but nobody sees me fight inside.