Born Privileged

I was born with the privilege of a heightened sense of curiosity, so the reality opens up a world of numberless possibilities. No boredom can penetrate this veil of thirst for knowledge. Life becomes an ever-going treasure hunt with new treasure chest popping up in every new corner. Even in the lowest of time, where all hope loses, there remains the hope, nay, aspiration to the next treasure hunt that fuels my soul.

I was born with the privilege of the love of learning. Probably because of my curious nature, I learned to endure the hardship that comes with learning anything worth learning. Because of that, folks praise me, saying I would have a good future ahead.

I was born with the privilege of having a fascination for written words. Through them I got the chance to touch the minds of hundreds of individuals, some real, some not. Through them, I’ve got praised by folks around me because book-loving and book-reading are privileges they just can’t attain.

I was born with a privilege of possessing a quick grasp of languages. Because of that, opportunities arise for me to learn, to communication, and even to impress because apparently, knowing good English in a developing country like Cambodia makes you stand out.

I was born with the privilege of a medium height, so that I got praised often, saying I would make a great model.

I was born with a growth mindset. However messed up my life is, I kinda know there are always a way to turn it all around. Because of this, I have endured all the hardship in life without ever once having a suicidal thought.

I have seen folks born with curiosity, but lost it along the way. The world becomes dull, with only paper kingdoms and faded old chests. For them, the highest sense of satisfaction is pleasure.

I have seen folks struggling in class, saying learning is just not for them. I have seen the same folks having a keen inclination for arts, but are discouraged, because apparently, pursuing arts is not as worthy as the academia.

I have seen folks having a fascination with other objects as deep as mine for books. Because they aren’t books, those folks are shunned, shamed even for their choice of fascination. Though what they fail to understand is all fascination leads to the same goal- satisfaction, that book is but only one of the myriad of things worthy of our attention.

I have seen folks trying once and again to get their English together. 5, 10, 15 years and counting, yet they still can’t speak it correctly. I have seen them questioning themselves, calling themselves dumb. I have seen them excelling in the grasping of the intricacy of international issues, but are taken lightly because their English is broken.

I have seen folks who are called “shorty” who have wished more than a thousand times to grow just 5 more centimeters so that they don’t look like such a midget.

I have seen folks who feel helpless, who accept with a downcast eyes their fortune, naming fate as the culprit of the mess that they call life. I have seen the same folks struggling to feel motivated in this gloomy world that they call home, constantly daydreaming about the best way to end it.

I was born common, but society decides to call me privileged.
Other folks were also born common, but society decides to call them disadvantaged.

I guess, privileged or not, that’s ours to decide.

Published by

itsmscheng

You can hardly mention anything I'm not curious about.

11 thoughts on “Born Privileged”

      1. These people don’t live for you or for me. Their life is theirs, first of all.
        Unless you suggest a philosophy that we don’t own ourselves, but that would mean we don’t own other things like our bodies. I’m not saying this is a bad philosophy – it’s possible it’s better. I’m open to suggestions.

      2. No, I am all for owning your own thoughts and actions and of course, your own lives. I guess I’m just too privileged to even imagine how hopeless someone could be to think of suicide as the only way.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s