Chapter 20

"好变态人”

It’s not a surprise that I hate my whole existence, so it would probably be reasonable if I go about it a little differently from the conventional ways.

To make sure it went smoothly, I specifically mentioned it three years beforehand:

“I don’t do birthdays anymore.”

Why?

Well, 9/11 isn’t exactly a wonderful day in the first place, let alone being born as twins. I know that tragedy has nothing to do with me — I wasn’t even born until six years later — but it feels disrespectful to celebrate my worthless, burdened start while thousands perished.

And yeah, I’m turning eighteen. Legal adult in some countries. And I look like this… birthdays became more of a public 

humiliation than a cheerful occasion of growth. I don’t really do growth, so why the birthday?

Those thoughts stay inside, but on the outside, it’s less obvious. I still had to go through three more birthdays after that.

History will not repeat itself — not in my hands.

But that doesn’t mean my sister won’t get the best birthday of her life. I’ll do anything to make up for my absence. I worked a couple more dog jobs and saved enough to take her shopping. I bought her a 1:1 gun model, shiny black leather boots, and a blue cropped top.

I even designed her a custom cake — literally drew a full concept art, front, back, and side, for the bakers. She’s one of those emo gals. Those creamy sunshine rainbow cakes in the past were too hard to look at when she’s a whole Wednesday Addams.

While doing that, I couldn’t help but dream of the birthday I would’ve had. A birthday I could actually enjoy, without feeling like I was dragging a fifty-ton boulder on my right foot.

I ordered myself a cake. Nothing too crazy — four inches, vintage green, with the words “Happy Birthday Daniel.”

My credit card never bled more. I could feel him slowly drawing away but failing.

My sister told me she wanted me there, even if I wasn’t going to celebrate. I never say no to my sister. So I agreed. I just had to make some arrangements.

The day before the official birthday, I took my cake, dressed in my usual “uniform,” and headed out. My mom stopped me. After some not-so-thrilling conversation, I decided it was best to keep it to myself. I left without the cake.

No biggie. A Cheers muffin would do just 

fine.

Staring at the sky getting darker on the MRT made my heart sink. I missed the sunset. It was 7:15 p.m. — why did it set already?

“It’s okay, Daniel.”

At Jurong Lake Gardens, I sat down on a wooden platform, where I should’ve been watching the sunset. The floor was still slimy and wet from rain. I set the muffin down, took out three candles — 1, 1, and 8. Too big for that poor muffin.

The extra one was to commemorate Eunice. I took away her life, tormented her body, and stole her youth. She could use a little kindness after my unkind exit from our last interaction.

It took me way too long to light all three candles, and as soon as I did — clouds. No, clouds of bugs stormed in.

I stared at the fire. The flames danced like 

they’d just had fifteen shots of espresso. Strange, because I didn’t feel any wind.

I guess this is it.

“Wanna make a wish, Daniel?”

“I don’t feel like making wishes. None of them came true… Besides—”

I stopped and slapped my head real hard.

“When I was fourteen I wished to stay fourteen forever. See where that led us?”

I laughed bitterly, swiping bugs from my face. The lake sounded like a carnival — huge fish tumbling beneath the surface. I couldn’t see them, but I heard everything.

Lights flickered across the lake. Over here, total darkness. The fire turned reddish-orange.

The first “1” dimmed and faded into a thin string of gray smoke. I watched it drift away.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. I felt cold.

“Time for the cake!”

I looked at the muffin. It was filled with wax and bugs.

“Never mind.”

I packed it up, leaving nothing behind.

“I could use some music… where’s that damn song, I was here when I—”

I looked up at the MRT map.

“Tuas Link? They changed it? It was Tuasling…”

I just wanted to go home.

Mom cooked me something — 汤圆 inside grilled cheese.

Not being ungrateful, but it was totally inedible.

I shoved it down anyway. I’d become more aggressive toward her — just anger, after the last appointment.

“It’s not her fault,” I told myself.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Gary told me.

“And it’s okay to be angry.”

I filled my mouth so I wouldn’t say 

anything hurtful.

“我今天和网上学的，好不好吃？”

“网上叫你吃屎你也吃吗？”

She stormed off.

Goddamn it, Daniel. Why can’t you control yourself?

Back in my room, I grabbed the 30 cm plastic ruler. The same one. I swung it through the air and landed it hard on my wrist.

I’m not self-harming. I did it fully conscious and alert.

I’m punishing. Disciplining.

Only if I can feel it.

Then I leaned back and smashed my spine into something hard.

DYUM.

I jumped up and saw a black paper bag, packed to the top with creative cutouts of “Happy Birthday.” On my bed, which I’d just destroyed by sitting on it.

I opened the bag.

Three pairs of knee socks, a Krypto Tech Deck, two Hot Wheels (a Batmobile and a Vox Vogen), a Tomica I couldn’t name, two traveler’s notebooks, a roll of tape, a tiny box of staples, and eighteen KFC plastic forks (for some reason). Finished with a handcrafted “undeath note,” saying how much she wished I could have my dream come true — to die — but it’s illegal for her to do it.

Great. I wasn’t expecting or needing any of this. But maybe I don’t really know what I need.

Then I realized the cover of Crazy blue I was looking for and listened to never existed. Tuas Link had always been Tuas Link.

Addie looked a little different. Celebrities too. I calmed myself down — just hyper-focusing. Maybe I’d switched servers. But why does it matter? I’m still me. My fate is still the same.

Maybe fate just has it against me. I’ve read that only stupid, unaware people complain about fate they’re incompetent at altering.

But I did end up with three birthdays in a row:

One with myself.

One with my parents.

One with family.

My parents took us to a buffet at the Mandarin Hotel in Duxton. Dad’s idea — he used to have his college orientation there. The old man needed a reason to revisit.

I dressed like Pugsley from Wednesday,hoping my sister would match. She declined. I didn’t have his build or personality, but we shared the loneliness of having no friends.

My sister was still being her usual baddie-from-hell self. Years ago Mom would’ve complained about our choice of colors on such an “important” occasion, but I guess it gets to a point where it’s weirder if we don’t.

I wandered the place with my empty plate, watching my parents load theirs with lobsters and foie gras.

It’s scary we share the same bloodline.

I found nothing but salad, mashed potatoes, and beans. My parents were already chucking down the meats.

I grabbed a foie gras for my sister. I wanted to cook my own one day, but I’m a vegetarian now. I could only admire from afar.

It was scary to see the greedy look on my parents’ faces. Is that what adulthood 

does to you?

Thirty minutes in, Dad was already struggling — long breaths before forcing down another soft-shell crab.

“Oh God, no.”

“Haha, poor you,” Mom said, while they laughed at my plate of raw onions.

Yeah, it looked sad. But I don’t do happiness anyway, so it suited me fine.

Desserts were my only hope. I might have the attitude of a dying old man, but I’ve got a sweet tooth. I control it so I don’t get type 2 diabetes.

I took a dark chocolate mousse cake. My sister watched me bite into it.

“It tastes like absolute ass,” I said.

She smiled with satisfaction.

Then came her cake — Helcurt from Mobile Legends, practically her husband. Weird taste, but fine.

Then came the humiliation — my parents 

telling the waiters we were both eighteen. Their stares said it all.

After that, I gazed up at the mirrored ceiling, rethinking my life choices.

I wished someone would ask if I’d done something different with my hair. I hadn’t.

The next day wasn’t better. My siblings wanted to celebrate at a KTV restaurant.

My best and worst present was Charlie Kirk’s death. Not because I wanted it — I hate that man, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone but myself. What was good was seeing who my dad really is.

“He was a good man,” Dad said.

“Saying the truth. Trying to save all the brainwashed youngsters like you.”

It was the second time I’d been called brainwashed. I don’t deny it. But hearing it from Dad — that hurt.

I argued: “But he said things that aren’t tolerated either. Controversial.”

“He’s saving people from bad influence,” Dad said.

“Bad influence… like me?”

“No. You’re one of the GOOD FREAKS.”

The whole car burst out laughing. I thought Dad knew better. Maybe I was wrong. But fuck it.

What the hell is a good freak?

I closed my eyes. Tears burned. I’ve been crying too much these days.

“Not acceptable, Daniel.”

My elder sister yelled, “Happy birthday girls!”

The whole family snapped their heads toward me. Physical damage. Seizures. Tweaking.

Dinner went as family dinners go. We screamed My Chemical Romance songs. Goths, emos, ex-emos. Normal.

The cake I’d ordered for myself was used today. Everyone saw the name “Daniel,” but 

no one said anything. The bakery must’ve used every piping head they had, because that cake was a whole garden. They didn’t hold back on food coloring either. We all laughed, sticking out our colorful tongues.

Later, we went to my elder sister’s house. Her old white cat sniffed between my legs.

Probably my sock dick. Worn too long, smelled like a real ball sack.

“We’re both missing our balls, huh? Crazy what the world does to us.”

Mom wanted to post our photos, but my face of vengeance stopped her.

I guess I'm just one of those good freak.