Posted at Friday, November 06, 2015, Leave Your Sparkle[s] (0)
Wednesday, November 7th 1990, at 3:50am, I was born to be a girl, the fifth child of Rahman’s family and was given a name which means ‘Evening’. I was raised by both of my parents gracefully and thanks to God for giving me chances to see this beautiful world that nobody can ever question why it has to be amazingly great and breathtaking. I am, a girl who will always wonder, always questioning myself of why can’t I be good like those who can be a doctor, like those who can be an engineer, like those who can be a scientist? And why did everything seem to be impossible for me to catch?
I am, a girl who can not feel proud of myself, can not be good enough to myself and will always compare myself to those who are greater than me. I am, a girl, who can never be good enough to my dear self but keep on inquiring about things I can not afford and achieve.
And I am, a girl, who wants to be everything to myself. I want to be good in everything, although many have said that it was impossible to be good in everything but I want it, I want to be good in everything because I have seen, I have witnessed, I have listened, and I have heard people underestimated me, louder than my heart’s voice; sinking in deep down my heart and flooding inside my mind. They are running in my veins like a jolt of electric shock and tugging at my beating heart until it feels hurt as if someone is gripping on it tight, clenching on it; leaving no room for the air to run through it that it makes me succumb my life to the point I can not even breathe.
I am, a girl, who doesn’t believe, doesn’t trust in compliment. I barely or most likely do not appreciate praises. It sounds so deceiving to my ears and I think that everybody is making fun of me, winding me up, giving me such a beautiful lies but then hurting me to the point I can not believe in everything I am doing and make me feel rather useless. I do not trust people, either.
I am, a girl, who keeps on over thinking things that it pains me, saddens me, scratching my heart and push myself off the cliff; letting my dear self drown in the darkness.
Trust issues, over thinking… These two things, people have said to never let it dominate my mind, controlling every fiber of my brain until it refuses to work on the positivity but I can not do that. My brain insists on working that way, in an antic that nobody can ever comprehend of the way I make it run inside my head.
I have tried, harder than everyone could think but it fails miserably. I ask myself how? I ask my best friend how, I ask everyone who’s closest to me how and they mostly said the same thing yet I can not choose the options they were given to me. It is hard.
Aside of those, I am good at smiling, I am good at laughing, I am good at hiding things, I am…secretive, people can not read my mind, can not read what lies in beneath these eyes and people have said that I am… unpredictable.
That is true; I can not understand myself either. And if someone ever admits that he or she understands me better, that is probably a sweet lie to make me comfortable. I am bad, I am evil to myself. I do not let myself happy; I do not cheer myself up. There are ways to light up my day but deep inside me, I believe I do not deserve any. Why?
It is—because I lack of everything.
But, I forgot…aside of my weakness, I found myself adoring arts quite too much. The art of living, the art of singing, the art of dancing, the art of writing, the art of drawing, the art of speaking and the art of everything; these seem to be one of the things that leads me to happiness. I believe I could not be happy, yes, but now I believe that I can fly up in the sky with the name of art.
I was, a girl who had always wanted to be good in drawing. From the age of eleven, when one of my classmates was better than me in creating arts, I cried. I tried harder to draw, to make a piece of art that could be shown to the world that I am good at it.
Sadly, at the age of fifteen, when I finally able to create a piece of which Avril Lavigne plastered on it, one of my friends said that it was not good and it looked horrible. Again, I cried and almost gave up but I certainly did not.
Yet again at the age of seventeen, someone had said that it wasn’t good for my future, would not give me a bright future, it would be only a thing that people might not be proud of, a thing that nobody would ever want to lay an eye on and would be something just like a piece of trash and way too priceless to be shown.
She was my inspiration but then she was being the one who snatched my precious self away. I gave up to it and made it as a hobby that meant merely nothing to hold onto. I created pieces of drawing but that was it. Only drawings and uploaded on my SNS account. People encouraged me to be an artist but none of it could be digested because I knew that I couldn’t, be it an artist, a designer, a fine art teacher. None of it could be a thing that could make her proud.
I wasted for eight years, giving up to doing a good art because I knew, she would never approve, hence I did not focus. If I chose to focus and shrugged everything she had said to me, I might be someone who could already create a fantastic art / abstract / paintings / digital and all / also with the name of Hyperrealism Art or way greater than that or perhaps I am now a graphic designer / an artist / or whatever job that related to arts but no.
I am now, only someone who keeps on struggling to be good at it. I woke up, pulling myself up and struggled more to open their eyes. I tried harder to make her realize, that Ashley could not be a doctor, Ashley could not be a teacher, Ashley could not be a scientist, Ashley could not be a preacher, Ashley could not be anything but someone who can work 24/7 for arts. Ashley can work with anything that is related to art.
November 6th 2015, she has now realized that Ashley can work for it but it is too late and things can not be back to the very first day when Ashley realized that she was a human with skills and not grade.
Certainly, 25 years has passed and I am now, still a person who keeps on struggling harder to make people stop underestimating her; stop seeing her as a trash, stop judging her like she is a beggar.
But, I am…already good to myself. I can laugh like others did, I can smile the widest, I will try harder and harder to stop over thinking and forgive all of those people who have hurt me. I am now, giving a space to the positivity to sink in; sitting on my shoulders. I deserve to be happy, aren’t I? I deserve to get whatever I want, aren’t I? And I can be someone who can appreciate herself, can’t I?
Yes, I can. There is nothing impossible in this life. Happy birthday Ashley; Happy birthday dear self, you are your future, you are your smile, you are the laughter that will fill the air, you are the strength to yourself, you are the joy, the fun, you are the tears, you are the sorrows but you are also the remedy. You and yourself are the everything that you need and, I love me.
Last but not least, Happy birthday, Ashley.