What Made You Today Ep. 2- I’m not a Freak and Have a Blossomed Life
A pretentious intelligence.
Do you know an exam machine? Learning is not for knowledge but for grades. They can take an exam like a printer operating without comprehending the subjects but are still ranked 1st and 2nd in school exams.
I had been a typical exam machine from 1st grade to 10th grade. I studied hard by completing at least 5 workbooks or reviewing test papers for each subject. This resulted in me encountering a lot of similar questions on school tests, to the point where a reflection trained by test-taking to choose the right answer without thinking.
As an elementary teacher, my mom encouraged me to bury my nose in multiple-choice and math problems. Every new semester was a spring shopping spree for workbooks. After my private school ended at 5, followed by two hours of break and dinner time, and then classes from 7 to 9.30.
To finish all the work assigned by the school, myself, and cram school, I was frequently absent from gatherings with relatives.
My mom was proud of me; my dad disagreed in silence; my sister prioritized her friends as the reason for going to school.
If you stick to a way without failing for 16 years, one failure can destroy you defendlessly.
Standing in front of a bulletin board, surrounded by classmates, my eyes moved down the rows of grade reports and stopped at my number 46, followed by a score of 33/100.
I fell into a fifth-dimension space. There were no numbers, no logic, no sound, no color, and no breathing.
The frenzy of fear froze me to stand in the hallway in Shining.
My rusty foundation of knowledge crumbled accompanied by a shrill sound of violin. It was my Judgement Day. Athena convicted my hollow wisdom.
I was sent to a prestigious cram school that was only specializing in chemistry. I could not catch up with the class, and it felt like I was running in the opposite direction. Gradually, I gave up on chemistry, then mathematics, then geography, and all subjects with my only self-value.
I was like an unpredictable bomb in the family. I shouted at my family to require silence for studying while sleeping in the room. I threw one book after another out of my room. I sought revenge on my body by eating nonstop, sneaking into the kitchen and cleaning out the fridge, and filling my lunch bento until it was as heavy as a cannonball.
I deteriorated. I gained 30 kilograms in the last two semesters in high school.
To maintain a lovely family, I was sent to live in a school dorm. “A five-minute walk from your home to school?” The office lady raised her eyes from my personal information to meet mine, suspicious. I forgot my response, but her question stayed with me, along with a self-loathing.
My mom thought I was unappreciated; my dad treated me like rabies; my sister regarded me as a cold-blooded psycho. I was blind to everything around me.
During the weekends, like during childhood, I still love lying on my parents’ bed, the softness, the intimate smell, and the feeling of being accepted and protected.
I heard my dad ask, “Can she stay in the dorm during the summer vacation?” My mom answered, “Probably not.” Uneasy and paranoid, my dad said, “What? A freak comes back to sabotage the peace of our lives for a whole summer?”
There was no further sound. I buried my nose between my dad’s and mom’s pillow, closing my sore eyes.
