I used to scoff at how much of a perfectionist my mum was. She has almost everything well-planned and thought of.

I remember complaining to my maid (sorry mum!) at times and instead of backing me up like she usually would, she said,

“Don’t. You’ll end up like her one day.”

To which my reaction would involve me raising my voice in dismay saying how impossible it was. And throwing a pillow at her lah, obviously.

But then, ke mana tumpahnya kuah kalau tak ke nasi right? šŸ™‚

I always pictured myself as someone spontaneous, a go-with-the-flow kind of person. When my friends said,

“You think I’m a perfectionist? Nisa lagi la!”

naturally, I would disagree.

I was anything but a perfectionist.

Until tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t realise it sooner.

The truth is, I am anything but spontaneous. As much as I wish I could be, I’m not.

If I usually washed my clothes on Friday, then I wouldn’t do it on any other day. And I wouldn’t let them hang on the rails more than a night.

I wouldn’t watch a movie until 3-4 am when I know I’ve an 8.30 am class on the same day.

Every night before I go to bed, I’d clear my desk and arrange the books neatly for tomorrow.

Every morning before I leave for class, I’d make sure everything is in place.

Heck, I wouldn’t even be able to sleep if I left my pencil case on the dining table outside.

Effa once commented my room looked like an assassin’s because of how freaking neat it was. Even the t-shirt I wore the night before would be laid neatly on my bed…

It’s not something I like, it’s just something I’m used to. I blame National Service šŸ˜›

I live my life knowing it’s mine, that I’m in charge of everything that’s going on in it. When someone interferes, even if they’re my parents, I’d get prickly. It’s like this power obsession I have, this feeling of being in control.

Now I sound like a psycho.

No matter how negligent I act, I rarely do so without weighing the consequences. If I wanted to jump into a puddle, I must be prepared to get wet and muddy. And when that happens, it’s my responsibility to clean up. Not others.

One wouldn’t be angry if she doesn’t give permission to herself to feel angry. If someone caused her pain, then it’s clearly her fault for letting it happened in the first place. There’s no one to be blamed but herself…right?

When I’m in cloud nine, I tell myself it’s temporary. Like everything else, happiness too, fades. It doesn’t last. When I feel really sad, I reminded myself that it’s necesssary. Life without pain doesn’t exist.

I really respect those who are so determined, so sure about the future, because I don’t. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I don’t know if what I have now will last. And hanging on to the unsure seems…reckless.

That explains why I like playing safe, why I don’t like commitments, why I don’t like taking risks, why I’m easily traumatised. Because at the end of the day, the one who has to clean up the mess is me. At the end of the day, I don’t have anyone but myself.

And as everyone should know by now, my least favourite thing in the world is cleaning šŸ˜‰

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