Personal Recount 13: Write about an important decision that your parents made regarding your welfare but the outcome was not what they anticipated.
At the age of twelve, I sat for the Primary School Leaving Examinations (PSLE). After studying fervently and having countless sleepless nights due to nervousness, I scraped through the examinations half-dead, yet what I attained was far beyond my imagination. On the day the results were released, I was extremely worried. As the seconds ticked by, I heard my name being read out as the top student for the year, with a score of 270 out of 300. My mind blanked out, and my body twitched with excitement. I let out a gasp, and the people around me started patting my back and congratulating me on my achievement.
My parents were delighted with my results, and immediately decided that it was best to enroll me into the top notch girl secondary school in Singapore-Regent Girls Secondary School. They thought that was the best for me to achieve my fullest potential, despite my objections as I preferred Aristocrat Secondary School. The days flew by and the posting results were released. I had gotten into Regent Girls Secondary School. The next few days were filled with multiple events of reporting to the school for registration and purchasing uniforms and books. However, my heart was filled with dismay as I was not allowed to choose the school I wanted, and had to go according to my parents’ wishes.
New Year came and went, and school started. I was dreading the first day of school, as most of my friends went to neighborhood schools. Days whizzed by, administrative matters were settled, orientation camp was held, and soon, lessons started and school was in a full swing. However, I soon realised that I was unable to cope with the lessons, and my grades were constantly low. Soon enough, my position in class dropped from the middle range to the bottom.
I knew my performance in school would disappoint my parents greatly, as they worked hard to pay the high school fees, and that they had very high expectations of me. I felt very depressed, and started drinking to chase away the sorrows, and getting high. However, alcohol was insufficient to curb my depression, and I moved on to smoking. By the age of 14, I was a compulsive smoker, and was often high on alcohol. With such habits, I paid no attention to my studies and my grades stayed at the bottom of the class. I was often seen around with bloodshot eyes, and I went to school, often on a hangover after binging on alcohol the night before. My teachers and parents were very concerned. However, I just shrugged them off as if they were flies buzzing around me. My classmates shunned me, and I was the ostracized one, the one who had no friends or knowledge.
One day, a burly girl came up to me and asked me to join her gang. I accepted, as I thought it was cool and I had found acceptance. We hung out day and night, dunking cans of alcohol and smoking pack after pack of cigarettes at void decks. I was wasting my life away, yet I did not care. I could not face the reality of my grades. How could I, an ace student, become a delinquent? I read this quote in a book before, “When you are at your lowest point, you cannot get any lower than that, as you have hit rock bottom already” , at this point, I felt that I was bad enough already, how bad could I get from this point? One day, one of my gang mates passed me a packet of white powder, saying, “This is the real deal, it outshines the other ‘highs’ you have gotten in the past.” Curious, I decided to try the white powder out. I poured some of the powder into a metal spoon and heated it. The powder turned into liquid and it began to smoke. I lapped up the smoke eagerly and waited for it to take effect. It felt euphoric, and I started drifting in and out of consciousness. It was fabulous, and the dark cloud that fogged up my mind for the past two years dissipated.
From that day onwards, I was devoted to the ‘all mighty’ heroin. It relieved all the pain and it seemed like the most benevolent ‘god’ of all the ‘gods’ in the universe. For two years, my addiction got worse, and I took in increasing amounts of heroin. I knew I was a wreck, my parents were extremely worried, yet I did not care. All they were to me were the accursed humans who caused me to become what I am. They forced me into this, they ruined me. I lived day and night with negative thoughts circling in my mind.
Once fateful night, when I was sixteen, I was finally caught by the police when I was smoking heroin in a dark alley. While they tried to handcuff me, I stuck a needle into my arm and squeezed the piston, emptying the liquid heroin in the syringe into my veins. That was the last supper.
That night, I was driven to a drug rehabilitation centre, and there I stayed for the next two years. I vividly remember the look on my parents’ faces when they visited me. Even the most profound words in this world could describe the disappointment displayed on their faces. That night, I swore to change. No matter what happened in the past, they worked so hard to bring me up, I could not disappoint them any further. The two years in rehabilitation was pure torture. The withdrawal symptoms were horrifying. Cold turkey just made things worse. I longed for heroin so much, that even a drop would do just fine. I drifted in and out of consciousness, hoping that the days would pass by quickly, and I would be out of this hell hole. There came a point of time, I needed heroin no more. The treatment was working. I felt exhilarated. Could this be a turning point?
Two years later, I stepped out of the rehabilitation centre, and proudly exclaimed to my parents that I was drug-free. My parents’ eyes were brimming with tears. I could clearly see that they were proud of me, though the disappointment I saw that night two years ago was deeply etched in my mind. Upon my release, I took up studying again, completing my ‘O’ levels, attaining a diploma in Biomedical Sciences, and eventually entering Harvard University, majoring in dentistry. Today, I’m proud to say I’m still drug-free. Need a dental checkup? Come to me!
(written '09 14 essay pia week. i like the last line)
