Amortentia and Pumpkins

Human's have approximately 12,000-50,000 thoughts a day. I'm just trying to get as much of mine out as possible.

Month: July, 2013


by amortentiaandpumpkins

I have been the victim of vicious rumours for as long as I can remember.

When I started high school around 8 years ago, a girl who I considered a friend started a rumour that I was cheating in all my exams, and that was the reason why I did so well in school. Apparently, she considered herself a top student, and could not stand the fact that I was beating her in all the exams. She turned everyone I considered as friends against me. I was nicknamed “Fork.” People would post MSN Messenger statuses about me using this nickname. Things like “Spoons are better than Forks.” “Fuck Forks.” I caught on only a few weeks later. I was lucky that my parents had told me that we were moving away from London to Hong Kong within a couple of months. Otherwise who knows what could’ve happened.

I thought I was past all that. But then a new high school meant new people. New people meant new tormenters. I’d never had a boyfriend before, and when I moved to Hong Kong, many girls judged me when I said I had never had a boyfriend. I was only 13. Give me a fucking break. 

High school wasn’t a beautiful experience. I know a lot of people would say this. But you’d think that after high school, people grow up. People would stop this shit. But they don’t.

I heard a rumour about me. Two rumours in fact. One was that I had sex with one of the older students at my university. That was bad enough. Another was a rumour that I had sex with someone I was actually really into, when in fact, during the night in which he claims we had sex in, we actually spent most of the night talking, and part of the night kissing. Sure, he came back to my place. But that was that. It really hurt to think that he was telling people we went further than we actually did. I trusted him. I would never have expected that of him. But I guess my naivety got the better of me. 

Of course I cried. That’s the rational thing to do, right? When people are saying you did these things when you didn’t do them, it made me feel degraded at the very least. Is this what people really think of me? I wanted to confront these people. The ones that made the rumours. The ones that consumed these rumours with relish, believing those lies, having something to do in their otherwise pathetic lives. But what good would this do? I wouldn’t come across as righteous or dauntless or anything like that. I’d just look insecure. I’d just fuel their fire even more. 

I guess one thing I’ve learnt is that rumours will never stop. Also, it’s not like I haven’t given them any reasons not to believe these rumours. I have been promiscuous, at times more so than I should have been. I haven’t been the most sensible person sexually. But why do people give a toss? I guess people just need something to talk about.

I suppose… no publicity is bad publicity. At least not all bad. 



by amortentiaandpumpkins

I don’t like to think of myself as an attention-seeker. It has always had such negative connotations for me. The word suggests that without all eyes on you at all times, you can’t function; you’ll go beserk or some shit. I really like to think of myself who is independent: someone who doesn’t really need anyone’s compliments or encouragements to survive. Of course, they are much appreciated. I’ll feel wonderful if someone compliments my new hairstyle or my newest blog post. But I don’t need it to keep me going.

However, these few days, I’ve been realizing that perhaps I DO have some sort of attention problem. It hit me when two of my cousins visited. Now these two cousins are younger than me, but not so much that literally all the attention goes to them. Everyone in the house paid attention to them, but not in extreme doses. I was still noticed. But I just felt like I was noticed during the wrong times. Only when I was doing something “wrong.” I decided to take advantage of the fact that a large proportion of the attention was removed away from me during their stay and decided to stay out until close to 5 am with my friend. When I walked in home at this hour, I didn’t hear the end of it from my conservative parents. My mother told me I was a disappointment. My father called me irresponsible. I was home safe, sober and in one piece, so what was the big deal?

But I think what really got to me was the next day. As cousins who were closer to my age than my parents, I was expecting sympathy from them. I was hoping they’d come, stroke my head and tell me everything would be okay. Instead, they just ignored me all day, even though I looked like I was on the verge of tears all day. I realized it was more because I felt no one seemed to care about me rather than because my parents went ape shit on me earlier that morning. 

I used to think the reason I did not enjoy having so many people in my house for an extended period of time was because I liked my solitude. I liked having me time. But really, after this, I get the feeling it is because my spotlight gets more split up than it already is. The light only shines on me during the worst times, and never when I actually need it. 

This has translated into my use of social media. I noticed that the average number of days I change my profile picture on Facebook is only about 2 weeks, as compared to many more weeks or even months that others take to change theirs. I think that, as I dig deeper, it seems that I am constantly in need of some sort of attention. 

I guess attention is not always a terrible thing. In fact, it is a wonderful thing. But like most wonderful things, it is only good in small doses. I think more than an attention-seeker, I’ve turned into some sort of attention-junkie; I thrive on attention. The feeling of being noticed excites me more than most things. 


by amortentiaandpumpkins

If someone asked me what the best gift someone could give me would be, I would reply with Freedom. 

I have grown up in a household where I have always felt that I have never been able to be who I really am. I feel like every single day is another day on set. I have to play a certain characters and meet the expectations of the director, otherwise there is no place for me at home. 

I had to listen to my parents tell me today that if I don’t comply with their set of rules, then I better get out of the house.

I’ve never been myself around them. Never been able to tell them my true desires. Never been able to make the jokes that I feel free making around anyone else. They keep going on about how home is one place where you can be who you are and not worry what others think. I feel the completely opposite applies to me; I am more myself when I’m in university, in a shopping mall, at the doctors, on the street, in a different country, than I am at home. It sometimes leads me to believe I have never really had a true home. Never felt comfortable in a place that I should be calling home. 

All I have ever wanted is freedom. Nothing has ever mattered more. You would think, at age 19, living AWAY from home for most of the year, I wouldn’t have to worry about this shit anymore. You’d be surprised. The feeling of belonging AT home and having the freedom of being who you are AT home is a gift worth sacrificing something for. Being understood by the people at home… if you know what this is like, you are incredibly lucky and blessed.