When I was young, my dad always told me, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’. It’s a brilliant piece of advice. But I guess I took it way too seriously and for way too long. I’ve always put up a barrier around myself, using laughter as a protective shield to wave off the damage. Little did I know that all the damage I’ve took over these couple of decades would come to haunt me now. Bit by bit, my shield wore off. I realised I could no longer hold up that smile as an answer to the insults and taunts thrown my way. Perhaps I’ve tolerated for too long a period of time, I’m starting to break apart. I find myself losing the ability to withstand the level of insults that I used to fend off. Is it a good or bad thing? And if you know the guys around me, you would know that the extent of such attacks isn’t insignificant.

I’m no stranger to verbal insults and should I call it abuse? As an only child, I was desperate for friendship from young. I told myself, if I was so particular about how others call me names or flung insults at me, I would never have friends. So I braced myself, faced the rest of the world and fought on. Time to time, I wondered if what they said about me was true. Each time after fighting my own demon, I’ll eventually win. I’ll fling it aside and everything starts all over again. You know, its like a video tape. Record, play, rewind, play, rewind, play, rewind... I swept aside the name calling camouflaging it as a joke of identity crisis ; pig, cow, goldfish, frog, toad, moonface, you name it, I’ve got it. I used to think that it would one day fade away. Mind you, I’m already 21. And it hasn’t. It has just became worse and it doesn’t stop at the names.

If you think words don’t affect me, think again. After all those years and all those things they say, I come to start thinking whether what they say about me is true. I know I shouldn’t and I know I need to fight it off with my confidence. But with a waning confidence level and an overactive brain, I can;t help but do. And it makes me wonder why do they say those things they do. Do they mean what they say? I know more often than not, they don’t. But sometimes, it occurs to me that although they say it for fun, it may as well be true. If not what gives them the inspiration to conjure up the idea? Do they ever know that some things said hurt more than physical affliction of pain?

Sometimes, I’m amazed by my own ability tolerate the evil things people say to me. I’ve probably finally found my limit. Some ask me, ‘how come you still can stand them saying those things?’ I wonder too.

But now, I think its time this ends. I’ve had enough. Thing is, can I make it stop?