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Prompt: Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way.
I eat grass.
Lalangs, we call it. Wild grass, but not the ones that cows and goats chew on. And neither do I chew on them like cows and goats - rather only for my tummy ache, I eat them.
It never occurred to me the way my friend would react when I candidly told him about my grass-eating experience - surprised and partly amused. I always thought it was in every way normal, and not, to put in his words, orang asli.
In fact, I find eating many things normal. I eat bats. I eat chicken feet, pig's liver, intestine, heart, gizzard. All parts of a pig, I put them into my mouth. My mother eats sago worms from tree barks - and it seems normal to me. Yet, I always had the same response - laughter, and more laughter - when I unfold such stories of myself to my friend.
I know I cannot help myself from all these. Food, like shopping to women, is my obsession - and my weakness. I prey on them, literally. Throw me a box of donuts, some chicken wings, a big glass of chocolate ice-cream, and I probably would promise you anything. Thoughts of food are quite literally brimming in my head. Perhaps that is the reason why many of my friends idolize me - for being the roundest thing that they have ever seen. Round belly, round face, and probably my whole figure, head to toe, is round (at least for now only, I hope).
But I find joy from eating food - and my friend couldn't agree more. Perhaps also, it is in my nature that I can find joy from the simplest of all things. Just like how I loved being naked. Not because I am a mad exhibitionist, nor am I a self-indulgent narcissistic. I hated clothes, quite literally. I did not like the feeling of things pasted upon my skin - it was troublesome and unnatural, I thought. And probably part of the reason was from my native upbringing - that I did not find much shame in being naked, and running around in places. In fact, I used to not wear clothes at all till I was 5-6 years old, unless forced to by my parents.
Now the only nakedness that I still love to live with - thank God, as my friend exclaimed - is on my feet. I love to be barefooted. I walk around without shoes, play sports without shoes, and prefer to do anything without shoes - even tennis under the scorching afternoon sun was without shoes. And the only thing that comes close to my mind to cover my feet with - is a pair of slippers.
Yet, of all the weirdest things and habits that I have of myself, this friend of mine treats me nothing differently. That I was still the same person that he sees in his eyes - Andrew, a plain round boy, orang asli, short and loud. He still pampers me with food, proudly shares my weird experiences with his friends, still plays tennis with me under the hot sun - barefooted, and God-knows what other things we do together. He makes me accept myself for who I am, and to continue pursuing the things and living the way that I find most joy in - even if it may seem funny, out-of-the-world to him.
And to a great extent, I learned to be more comfortable with who I am from him. That I know - it is perfectly alright to be a person that other people may not find normal: unless you're a terrorist, a pedophile or a psychopathic clown; and that sometimes, it is alright for me to find men crawling inside my head, instead of women, for some good reasons. But surely, you will not find me running around the streets naked, thinking that it is normal anymore - I have grown up from that!
Now, I am happier, and I do things that are me without worrying what others might think - thanks to him, my friend.
660words
Prompt: Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way.
I eat grass.
Lalangs, we call it. Wild grass, but not the ones that cows and goats chew on. And neither do I chew on them like cows and goats - rather only for my tummy ache, I eat them.
It never occurred to me the way my friend would react when I candidly told him about my grass-eating experience - surprised and partly amused. I always thought it was in every way normal, and not, to put in his words, orang asli.
In fact, I find eating many things normal. I eat bats. I eat chicken feet, pig's liver, intestine, heart, gizzard. All parts of a pig, I put them into my mouth. My mother eats sago worms from tree barks - and it seems normal to me. Yet, I always had the same response - laughter, and more laughter - when I unfold such stories of myself to my friend.
I know I cannot help myself from all these. Food, like shopping to women, is my obsession - and my weakness. I prey on them, literally. Throw me a box of donuts, some chicken wings, a big glass of chocolate ice-cream, and I probably would promise you anything. Thoughts of food are quite literally brimming in my head. Perhaps that is the reason why many of my friends idolize me - for being the roundest thing that they have ever seen. Round belly, round face, and probably my whole figure, head to toe, is round (at least for now only, I hope).
But I find joy from eating food - and my friend couldn't agree more. Perhaps also, it is in my nature that I can find joy from the simplest of all things. Just like how I loved being naked. Not because I am a mad exhibitionist, nor am I a self-indulgent narcissistic. I hated clothes, quite literally. I did not like the feeling of things pasted upon my skin - it was troublesome and unnatural, I thought. And probably part of the reason was from my native upbringing - that I did not find much shame in being naked, and running around in places. In fact, I used to not wear clothes at all till I was 5-6 years old, unless forced to by my parents.
Now the only nakedness that I still love to live with - thank God, as my friend exclaimed - is on my feet. I love to be barefooted. I walk around without shoes, play sports without shoes, and prefer to do anything without shoes - even tennis under the scorching afternoon sun was without shoes. And the only thing that comes close to my mind to cover my feet with - is a pair of slippers.
Yet, of all the weirdest things and habits that I have of myself, this friend of mine treats me nothing differently. That I was still the same person that he sees in his eyes - Andrew, a plain round boy, orang asli, short and loud. He still pampers me with food, proudly shares my weird experiences with his friends, still plays tennis with me under the hot sun - barefooted, and God-knows what other things we do together. He makes me accept myself for who I am, and to continue pursuing the things and living the way that I find most joy in - even if it may seem funny, out-of-the-world to him.
And to a great extent, I learned to be more comfortable with who I am from him. That I know - it is perfectly alright to be a person that other people may not find normal: unless you're a terrorist, a pedophile or a psychopathic clown; and that sometimes, it is alright for me to find men crawling inside my head, instead of women, for some good reasons. But surely, you will not find me running around the streets naked, thinking that it is normal anymore - I have grown up from that!
Now, I am happier, and I do things that are me without worrying what others might think - thanks to him, my friend.
660words
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