Fighter, Warrior, Angel

This is my 355th post on this blog. And that's quite significant. Thank goodness I'd thought of something important, so this post isn't some worthless piece of whining taking the place of an important number. (:

For as long as I can remember, I have been a fighter.

And a rather smart and strong-headed one, I can remember.

I remember my mum telling me, that this time as a kid, I refused to cry. They got worried that I was a mute, so they brought me to the doctor. The doctor gave me a toy to play with, and the nurse took the toy away once I started playing with it happily.

Instead of bawling my head off like most kids probably will, I crawled silently to the toy box and took another toy.

Adaptable, observant, resourceful, strong-headed.

I had all the qualities.

I see a photo of me as a baby with a black eye. The cause of the black eye is unknown, yet instead of having eyes red and puffy with tears, I'm smiling happily.

My first injury perhaps? Yet I never quite cried my head off.

I have had that smile since I was born.

Friday, my very first pet, was a big dog. He jumped on my mum when she was carrying me, apparently cause he wanted to get to me. As a result, my mum dropped me. -.- (Yes, she dropped me.) She never mentions me crying though.

Refusal to submit, perhaps?

Somewhere along the way, I became a crybaby. Bawling day in and day out.

I hated school. I remember when I was in Nursery 1, I had a dream. We were doing our ABCs, and I was acing it as usual. Suddenly, a dragon came and burned the whole school down, and I ran out cheering.

Nursery, and I hated school. And had an overactive imagination as well.

I remember the first fight I had. It was really stupid. And scary.

I was fighting with a classmate for a toy, waaaaaay back, I think in nursery as well. We were both pulling for it, and suddenly, her grip slipped and she fell back and hit her head. She was brought to the hospital.

I remember feeling extremely guilty, for fighting and hurting someone over something so silly. But I also remember that I refused to cry, instead waiting and praying for her to be safe.

And she came back, none the worse, minor cut to the head, and stitches, and with sweets given to a brave little girl by the doctor. I remember going up to apologise, not expecting to be forgiven. Imagine my amazement when she handed me a sweet with a smile!

From her, I learned a life lesson that would always remain deeply ingrained within me, become a large part of me as I grew.

Forgive and forget.

Then, the teasing started. For no reason whatsoever, I became my classmates target for their immature name calling. In pre-school, it was small. Since my chinese surname was "Liao", they would make fun of it by calling me "Niao Niao" which translates to pee. xD I remember being indignant, but I didn't make a big fuss.

Then came primary school. On the very first day, it seemed like my class was pit against me. I was simply following the teacher's instructions, sitting knee to knee with my partner like every other girl was. For no reason whatsoever, a mean girl called me molester, and soon the whole class started.

I remember being bewildered, but as P1 ended and we advanced to P2, I got a friend, and was invited to my first birthday party. Everything seemed alright. Then, the rumors about me spread to her, and I found myself alone once more. School became a chore, and many times I would go home complaining to my parents.

Now, my parents aren't like normal parents. While most parents would go up to their child's form teacher and demand to know why their child is being treated like that, my parents simply told me to ignore those kids, that their comments were worthless anyway.

So, I continued going to school.

P3, I got a friend, but she migrated. >.< It is also a year I remember mainly cos of one reason.

One time after assembly, we were heading back to class, and the class started calling me feces. Me, being the pro reader I was, understood what the word was, and was slowly getting mad.

The teacher came late, and for the whole of that time, the whole class was taunting me. I could feel the anger welling up inside of me, like a volcano.

BOOM!

"SHUT UP!" I yelled at the whole class.

I didn't care that the whole class was against me. I stood up for myself.

And I paid the price.

A few days later, in the dance studio, Mdm Buang, my stupid form teacher then, confronted me about the shouting incident, and scolded ME.

I got pissed of at a teacher. And I scolded her. O.O

I have never feared authority, or rather, I respect those who deserve my respect. If you're a beggar with good morals, I will respect you. If you are the king of the world and you are a pig, I won't respect you. That was and still is my stand. More on this later.

In secondary school, pressure continued to mount. But things were better because I had a close friend, Rebecca, whom I could turn to.

One year...can't remember when exactly, a Chinese teacher got mad at me and scolded me for not doing my work. I was fine with that, since it WAS my fault. Then, the teacher went on to say that my parents didn't discipline me and everything. THAT got me pissed off.

I told the teacher off. I had a strained relationship with my parents, but I loved them anyway, and nobody was going to insult them cos of a mistake I had made and get away with it. If its my fault, blame me. Why drag other people in?

Things at home got really bad. My mum started threatening to send me to the girls' home for no reason whatsoever. Small things like me not studying, she would claim I was out of control.

One night, I had a big fight with my parents, and I slammed my door.

And for that my dad came in and whacked me, and my mum called the police over.

My first time face to face with the policemen as the so called criminal, I was scared. Like shit. But I refused to cry, and I stared in their face. But I was too afraid to sit, and I could only stand in silent respect.

Then, they sided my mum, despite all their honeyed words of wanting to hear my side of the story. Even my dad had calmed down enough to say it wasn't totally my fault, and that my mum was overreacting a little, but, still, they sided with her.

That day, I lost my respect for policemen. Adults will always side with adults, I concluded, and from then on, I didn't put much emphasis on the uniform.

Then, it happened. My mum and I fought again, and once more, the police got called.

This time, I plonked myself down on a chair, put my legs on another chair infront of me, and waited.

And when they came, I refused to talk.

The first words out of my mouth were "You guys will side with my mum anyway, so what I say doesn't make a difference, I might as well not waste my breath."

Finally, they coaxed me into talking. And as I talked, I didn't bother to hide my lack of respect.

I do not fear authority that is undeserving.

Through it all, I have been a fighter.

I remember, way back in primary school, I headed to the playground with one of my rare friends. And there were a group of boys there. They were bullying this nerdy looking boy, making him the catcher again and again and again and snickering as they played tricks on him, taunting him.

I went up to them, a bunch of complete strangers, and scolded them.

I got lost in a shopping centre one day. If I remember correctly, it was the electrical section. Instead of crying, I went and looked for my parents. Sure, I was tearing. But I held the tears in and walked about systematically. When I'd walked for awhile and couldn't find them, I either headed back to where I lost them and waited, or went to find a security guard. Can't remember which. xD

I remember another time, on the bus with my sister, there were a bunch of old people on the bus. My sister and I gave our seats to two of them, and we stood up till it was our stop. I remember my sister telling me I had done the right thing, and me innocently said rather too loudly "Ya, its the right thing to do what. They're old, we should give way to them."

And a bunch of hooligans who had been making a lot of noise sobered up, and offered THEIR seats to the old people.

Upstaged by a kid. My sis and I had a good laugh at them after that.

You might be wondering, why the heck is she rattling on and on about her past?

My point is, I've always stood up for what I believed to be right. I see someone being bullied, I scold them. I see backstabbing, I tell people off.

I've always been a fighter, a warrior for justice in terms of my overactive middle ages imagination.

But somewhere into our relationship, I stopped fighting for others.

I started fighting for myself.

Perhaps this was God's way of waking me up, to make me see and grow.

But the only thing I can say is...

Why does someone else have to pay for my mistake with a mistake of his own? Why does he have to lie to himself for me to learn something?

He says he gained something inexplicable too...

But...to live in lies...it just isn't right...

And now I'm awake...

While I can't make any promises.

I owe it to God, and to myself, to make this vow.

No matter what happens, no matter what the outcome,

I will always fight for the oppressed, for my morals, for what I think and have learnt is right.

Ade, the Fighter.

Ade, the Warrior.

Ade, the Knight.

Ade, the Gentle.

Ade, the Caring.

Ade, the Angel. xD

I will never be quite as perfect as those titles sound.

But I will try my best.

To be true to myself.

No matter if God grants me my heart's greatest desire or not.

I will not lose myself once more.

I will live up to the name Adeline.

Woman of Esteem.
"For thou art my rock and my fortress;
therefore, for thy name's sake,
lead me and guide me."

I will not lose to the devil, I will never succumb.

I am Adeline.

I am a fighter.

A warrior.

This is me.

And this post is testimony to who I am.

If ever I lose myself.

I shall look upon this.

And rediscover.

A heart, though tainted, of gold that shines, at least a tiny bit.

That bit that makes me who I am.