Chapter 19 - Mr. X

Today I felt confronted. A feeling I haven't felt for awhile.

In the state of serious confrontation.

It was someone that once was important to me, though, I can't say much about him now, seeing as he's only fallen deeper and deeper into his own delusions of a perfect world. He's Mr. X from the letter I wrote to Mrs. C.

You see, Mr. X and I go way back. I can still remember the day that he transferred to my high school. The clearest memory I have of him was one during Lunch. He was sitting on the opposite side of the table, in front of me, and was talking to random friends I used to sit with during lunch time. He was shy, he looked as if he were only comfortable with one singular other person, his best friend who transferred with him.

Mr. X's popularity grew in those 2 final years of high school. More than the regular person's. For some reason, his image of a person was well desired by teachers. He would more than once gain the "respect" of a teacher (note, I'm putting respect in satirical markers.) and he would then gain advantage over many other people.

Though, he was often oblivious to it.

You see, Dear Reader, Mr. X was once important in my life, for one singular reason. I was in love with him. I found his adorability and his charm irresistible. He looked as if he had so much innocence, a certain je ne sai quoi that's hard to describe. For the 2 years that he attended my High School, 2 years I spent madly in love with him.

I tried over and over again to get his attention back then. But to no avail. He would only ignore me. Thinking that just being my friend would encourage me to go for him. He was well aware that I liked him, and had no idea how to deal with it. He tortured me back then. I would feel nothing but agonizing pain everytime I saw him. I would start to cry sometimes, because I knew that, in this lifetime, he would never be with me.

I thought he was gay, I still do think he is gay. Given, I don't know someone's true sexuality. I also have mentioned how I felt that everyone of us fall under a spectrum of sexuality, instead of one solid one. But I argue that everyone has a preference, a level of fondness for one type of "thing" ("thing" is used simply because of the plethora of sexual relations out there.), and I argue, that Mr. X has a much higher preference for guys than he has girls. He simply deludes himself from it.

But there's no point in arguing that, though, arguing it is like trying to tell a wall that's pink underneath a layer of white that it's pink.

Though I liked him to an unhealthy point in my life. I have to dispute that Mr. X was imperfect. I was blinded a lot by love as a child, and now that my childhood is over, things have become clearer and clearer to me. Mr. X was a victim. Of society, and of the world. He was a victim like the vast majority of the public now. He buys into the delusions that community has set for him, and he abides by the guidelines. Only to go so far as to be an"anti-conformist-conformist" once in awhile, because he has been taught to be that way. He lacked individualism, something i truly respect and admire.

He was the generic archetype of a golden boy. He was popular, smart, good at sports, but I dare ague, he wasn't the best. In each of his categories, there were people who were far better that he was, that also inhabited the high school. But only he was recognized time and time again. Mr. X was the epitome of anti-conformism. All he understood about life was the fact that he shouldn't be like the general masses, and in that, he gained supremacy in all the above fields. But he wasn't the best. I shall never get over that, how I've seen deserving people not get what they want, simply because of how they look, or how they promote themselves. It's people like Mr. X who deprive majority of the world from fairness and equality. You dear reader, may argue otherwise. Either because you know me, or you know Mr. X. I would think that you, dear reader, who criticize me, and think, that I, of all people, are one of the most jealous people around. Whereas, Mr. X, is well deserving of his accolades, because he "worked" for them. But I don't speak in jealousy, dear reader, I speak, and type, what I feel and mean. I don't care what the general public, or you, dear reader has to say. I don't say things because they sound better or because it's generally well liked. I say things because they are the truth.

For those 2 years that I loved Mr. X, I've never failed in delivering my aid to him. At a point in time, I remember myself helping him with his english homework. Time and time again, though he seldom asked for it, I would offer my prowess in the english language, and he would gladly accept. I would also prepare him for his interviews, though, I don't know up till this point if he really needed my help, but I dare say that I acted as comfort for his anxieties. I liked the fact that he needed me, or at least as much as I've deluded myself into thinking. I would have done anything to have pleased him. I feel like a fool now, a complete and utter fool. For believing in an empty shell of a man. A person who's only true merit is in absorbing information like a sponge, a pathologically numb and unconscious person, who is hardly aware of his own being.

I took it a step further when I aided him in his idea to create an "all-boys cheerleading team" for our school. It was our senior year, and it was definitely never done before. I had already thought of the idea a few years prior, but just didn't dare to say anything, simply because I didn't have the human resources or connections to get a team going for myself. At that point, I had already been cheering in inter-school competitions a few years, and I knew enough about cheerleading. Despite that being true, I will never insist that I am a full-fledged professional. Mr. X decided to form a team. He had the resources , and was well enough liked by the general student body.

I remember the day he recruited me into the team. He just assumed I would be in, already counting me in before even asking me, simply because I was one of the only boys that have cheered years prior. He's more selfish than he thinks.

He was also the team leader, by default. The choice was none other than that of our dear dear Ms. F, whom I mentioned in the DECIDEDLY AMBIGUOUS LETTER. The "captains" of the team were, Mr. X himself, and 2 other people from the sports "house" as he was. All, under the digression of Ms. F, who was apparently hand-picked by someone to be in charge of the cheerleading teams. I objected to this immensely. I wanted to be captain, acutely bad. I thought it through for a couple of weeks, and I came to the realization that it would be pointless for me to be leader. If not for the fact that no one would like me enough to take me seriously, but the fact that stirring up controversy isn't exactly the best way to go when you aren't on the faculty's goodside.

So it was so. Mr. X remained as captain for the team. But I'm up to this day, still very sorry say that he was one of the worse captains I've seen, period. He didn't understand the ideals of obedience and practicality. He didn't understand the ideals of efficiency and integrity. He was way too close to the team. Being "buddy-buddy" with the people you're training isn't the worse thing on earth, however, one requires to realize the boundaries of this relationship. Mr. X, didn't understand this. He time and time again would be lenient towards his "buddies", causing a chain reaction, causing a fretful situation where everyone started to lollygag. I, being the motivated person I was, had to time and time again "suggest" that Mr. X started to round up the boys. Thankfully, it worked most of the time. He would look as if he just became alert, and start getting everybody to listen to him.

Then would come the times where the entire team just sat tight for an extra 20 minutes during practice. They would come to the spot, sit, talk, and dawdle for more time than we had. Mr. X wouldn't do anything but correspond to his cohorts. I again, then would have to "suggest" that Mr. X start the practice without wasting anymore time.

What I have done here, may seem insignificant. But if I had a penny for everytime I had to "suggest" something to Mr. X, I would by now, have many, many, pennies. In my perception, Mr. X did nothing more than become a figurehead for the team. He was no more than just an outlet for Ms. F to convey her messages, other than that, and creating the "logo" for the team, he was in all essences, pitifully useless. The coach did most of the work, actually, all of the work. Mr. X didn't do his part in making sure that everyone knew what to do, and did them at the exact moment in time. He didn't have the essence of the leader, he only did as he was told, and nothing that he did was of his own accord.

Dear reader, I am sure, at this point, you are ready to criticize me with the meanest of intentions. But let me just say, I am not being biased in anyway. Whatever I've said in this chapter, has been entirely ripped from my own perception of things. Given, the perception of human beings tend to distort as their beliefs change. But I assure you, dear reader, I have fully and thoroughly analyzed my follies as a human being and considered them in my Analysis. I give credit where it's due, and Mr. X, deserves none.

My point is, dear reader, that Mr. X has so far received everything he has on a silver platter. Sure, he most probably has "worked hard" at some point for something, but I am sure it was not of his own accord. It is the fault of the Malaysian education system. It's the way parents at a point in our lives tell us what to do, teach us to work hard, makes it compulsory for us to work hard. I didn't buy in to this, not at all. Every instance of which I've worked hard in the past was not one based off guilt or past learnings, but rather, of my own interest and will. It's hard to distinct between intentions for actions. But once again, dear reader, I assure you, I have considered all the variables, and Mr. X, is nothing but a bi product of a healthy gene pool and a vain society.

Today Mr. X confronted me on F-Book. (F-Book being a social networking site that has all the right in the world to condone to defamation, therefore, it's alias.). I posted my letter to the principle online, and he so happened to have read it. He was infuriated by the way I rationalized things. Mr. X has never respected me for the intelligent person I was, and am. Despite the fact that he has used my prowess in the past, never has he once admitted to my intellectual supremacy. I can't blame him, though, I didn't exactly the best academia back then.

He stated, in his complaint pertaining me, that I was immature for saying what I did. I did not give credit to every single person in the team, and everyone in team was given full credit for their effort. There are a few problems with his statement.

Firstly, he claims I'm immature. True, I may act like a 5 year old at times, but I am hardly one of that mindset. Simply because I advocate the ideal of individualism and disregard the beliefs of delusional individuals, does not mean I'm immature. It means I'm opinionated. It means, that unlike most people in this world, I have a shred of logic. Just because I make statements that turn a blind eye to Mr. X's paradigm of what's right and wrong, it doesn't mean I'm immature. To me, immaturity comes from being unable to back your claims. I agree with you dear reader, if you are thinking so, that the definition of immaturity may shift with a different perspective. But, I shall stay my claim on the fact that Mr. X is an extremely immature person, one for being unable to discern logic and fact, and in his lack of ability to make judgements based on his own true beliefs.

To be semantical is to read in between the lines of what is said. As the way Mr. X read into my letter in the pervious chapter. He thinks that I discredited the entire team; he "thinks" I'm claiming all the merit. But no, I am not, he is not me nor is he a psychologist, he does not know or understand what I think. I don't discredit them. I believe that the entire team deserves to be called winners because of how they did. But what I was saying in my previous letter, is that, if I didn't exist, the team wouldn't even have a chance of making it into the top 5 that faithful year. Just as I would say that without the amazing coach, we also would not have achieved 3rd place in nationals that year. But something else I was also saying, is that, in the absence, or the substitution of most of team that year, including Mr. X himself, the team would have survived, and would still stand a fair chance to snagging second runner up. It's not about how skilled you are, it's about how hard you work, or rather, how hard can a leader make you work. To me, not all of them were there full heart and soul, I felt like I was the only one that wanted to win and was ready to do something about it.

I wasn't given full credit for what I was worth in the team. I was the strongest one, the most determined one, the most flexible, the most experienced, (at that point, in the team, not more than any actual cheerleader.) and the most forgoing for the idea. I could easily not put in effort, pulled out, and they would not have made it that far. I would say there are some people in the team that were like me, but certainly not all of them; certainly not Mr. X.

Mr. X doesn't deserve my respect. Not anymore. He has time and time again misread what I have to say. If not that, he would time and time again base his ideals of his retarded incapable state of being. Put me and him in a scenario where you start with the same hand of cards, and see who would survive the longest? I argue that I would, simply because of my ability to cognate far better than he can.

I truly don't care anymore, if he is my friend, or not. He has disappointed me time and time again, even though I've tried so hard to teach him the best ideals in life. He disregarded them, all. If not that, he has used them only to his own benefit, and proceeded to hurt me over and over.

I asked Mr. X to escort me to the senior prom.

I brought a rose.

He looked at me, and said "Stop it Ian."

And walked away.

Today I felt confronted. To tell the truth, it was as if I was arguing with a 3 year old.

Ian.