the chronicles of a garbage collector.

i loathed her, this garbage collector. even before she was born, i always dreamed about drowning her if she ever come out of the womb. and on the day she was born, i knew deep in my soul that this would be one living creature i'd love to hate. at that tender age of five, other kids my age were probably playing tug-of-war or riding their three-wheeled bicycle. but not me. i was too busy plotting out revenge to exterminate this pest. i purposely banged her head against the wall while she was in cradle, of course with no one around. i seriously thought that she would end up with a permanent head damage. but she was stronger. it was as if she knew that that was just the start of a series of torture and that she needs to endure them in order to keep being alive.

i tried many other dangerous missions to put an end to her life, but all were to no avail. she is one lucky garbage collector. i tried tripping her face down every time she was alone. but she kept getting up. i was beginning to wonder if she was by any chance an incarnation of hercules or xena the warrior princess. but that was not possible, because she was so limp and skinny. it's a miracle how she can survive the assasination attempt. i watched her as she grew up, collecting more garbage every day. piling them up without any intention to find new things to do. it sickens me to my stomach. i felt like regurgitating my meals. but i was hopeless. there was nothing i could do to stop her. she became more invincible each day.

as she approached her teenage years, she became this obsessed garbage collector who found pleasure by living in an incinerator as if it was five-star hilton. i did not get it at all. the incinerator was damp and dirty, yet she enjoyed every second of her life in that dark cold place. i decided to give her a piece of my mind but to my shocked, she snapped back. she began piling up garbage even more excessively as a sign of protest. the foulty smell and messy view has now infiltrated my place as well. and i noticed that this garbage collector would rummage around my closet without my permission and the next thing i knew, my clothes and belongings had already turned into trash that she piled up together with her existing garbage. she was like this sick virus, an influenza that needs to be contained for the safety of others. there was like this massive difference between us that bordered us into two separate spaces. mine with the crystal clear corner and she with her messed up space. it has been that way from then until today.

people who haven't lived with a garbage collector would have no idea how tough it can be. well i have. she was bad news all along. i had to wake up every day and remind myself not to kill this garbage collector for it would not be worth it. someday she would see what a nuisance her job is and quit being a garbage collector. that would be the day i would jump with relief. but until then, i just have to endure every pain that i have inflicted upon her when she was a baby, as i have now become her target. i know what she's trying to do. i can see it. she wants to win this war so bad. well i won't let her. all i have to do is to remind myself that this garbage collector is sadly my biological sister and that killing her is so not my job. that would be my mum's. that is, if mum can actually outwin her. as i'm blogging this, i can't see the floor of my bedroom by the way because it was scattered with her dirty laundry, overused tissue papers, school books that she never-read-but-opened-them-to-trick-mum-into-believing-that-she-did, candy wrappers, chocolate wrappers, shopping plastic bags, stationery, identity card, exam schedule, and many other types of garbage identified only by herself as the leftover texture was so terrifying for others to do so. this is the chronicles of a garbage collector, seen from the eyes of a depressed elder sister.