Of Pixels and Dying

Chapter 2: Mother Dearest

I threw my French horn onto my bed in frustration after messing up a complicated section of a piece for the 3rd time in a row. Why can't I get this part right? Everyone else in my section can play it perfectly, I berated myself. It was starting to look like I wouldn't have a chance of making it into the wind ensemble.

I decided to give up for the time being and went downstairs for a snack.

"Kelsey, are you practicing for wind ensemble?" my mom asked as I grabbed a bag of chips.

"Yes, I just finished," I responded.

She adopted a judgmental tone. "That's all? That wasn't even 15 minutes. You need to practice more if you want to get better."

I scowled bitterly but ignored her comment and returned to my room. My mother couldn't say a positive thing about me even if her life depended on it.

Despite the fact that I had an upcoming quiz to study for, I spent the rest of my Sunday scrolling through Instagram. Post after post of friends and acquaintances posing prettily showed up on my feed. I felt myself becoming despondent as the inner critic in my head unconsciously compared me to each and every one of them.

Having poor self esteem is not a unique feature of myself, not by a long shot. Nearly every girl on this planet has a slew of insecurities they wish they could fix. But it sure makes it hard to feel good about yourself when you're surrounded only by people with perfectly clear skin, ideal facial structure, and beautifully styled hair. How was it that out of all the teenagers going through hormonal changes, I was the only one showing up with acne?

I picked at my pimples in the bathroom mirror later that night. Why can't I just have clear skin? I feel so ugly. I frowned at my reflection before heading to bed in a lousy mood.

If my motivation for school had been bad before, it certainly got worse during that week. I managed to scrape by with a 70% on my quiz, and even though I hadn't studied at all, I still got angry at myself for receiving a low score. "I'm not smart enough, I'm not good enough" were becoming daily mantras in my head.

My appearance had taken a hit too. All I wanted to wear were T-shirts and hoodies. I'm going to look and feel like shit either way, I reasoned glumly, ignoring the section of my closet containing dressier tops and opting for the same pair of jeans and sweater I'd worn for the past few days. My decision ended up backfiring though because I felt even worse knowing how unkempt I was probably looking now.

Speaking of clothes, I made the mistake of wearing shorts on a particularly warm March day, finding myself at the mercy of my mother's judgments.

"Your thighs look so fat," she commented when I passed by. "Are you gaining weight?"

Are you fucking kidding me? I gritted my teeth and mustered a strained, "I'm not getting fat."

"You need to watch your weight," she admonished. "Most of your dad's side of the family is obese, so you need to be careful."

I stormed out of the room. I was so fed up with the constant lectures about "watching my weight" that had begun since puberty. Honestly, it was a miracle I hadn't developed an eating disorder by now because of how often she made an offhand comment about my body. I scrutinized my thighs in the bathroom mirror and fought back tears. As if I need another thing to dislike about myself.

Tubs entered the bathroom and rubbed himself against my legs. He peered up at me and let out a meow, as if to ask if I was alright.

"I'm okay, Tubs," I murmured. "Just human stuff." I gave him a few scratches behind the ears before bringing him to my room so that he could keep me company.

The next day at school I met up with Jainah, one of my friends, for lunch. We caught up on our lives and humorously exchanged some comments about how it felt like summer even though it was only March.

I smirked. "You can thank climate change for this weather."

"Well, that just means we'll get our summer tans early," Jainah joked. I chuckled in response as we sat down to eat.

"Hey Kelsey, you've seemed kinda down recently, is everything alright?" Jainah asked after a few moments of silence.

I shrugged and lied, "I guess. It's just my mom, she keeps commenting on my weight."

"Oh, that's normal for Asian moms," Jainah, who was full Taiwanese, responded dismissively. "My mom always tells me how fat my arms are. But I know she loves me anyway, it's just their way of telling you that." 

She smiled at me, expecting me to agree enthusiastically with her.

"Yeah, but it makes me feel bad about myself..." I trailed off when I realized she wasn't taking me seriously.

"It's fine, you're so pretty! Don't take the stuff your mom says personally, no Asian kid does."

I narrowed my eyes and didn't reply. It's certainly a widely accepted notion that Asian mothers pick on their children's physical appearance, especially their weight, more frequently than in other cultures. It was even a source of humor amongst my fellow Asian students. What I couldn't understand, though, was how nobody else seemed bothered by it. Am I just too sensitive? Maybe I need to have tougher skin.

That next weekend saw me feeling especially low. Hours would go by with me lying in bed, watching YouTube videos on my laptop and attempting to ignore how absolutely broken I was beginning to feel inside. Nothing I watched could shrink the gaping chasm inside me. As I was about to exit the website to take a nap, an advertisement popped up for a popular MMORPG game called Vikings of the North. Players could create a Viking character, level them up, and learn new skills to fight powerful enemies.

Holy shit, I haven't played this since I was 10, I thought nostalgically. Maybe gaming will make me feel better.

I made an account, created a character, and was surprised by how engaging and fun Vikings of the North was. 

I don't remember it being this fun when I played as a kid, I recalled to myself. 

Nothing in the past 2 months had made me feel excited the way this game did. I dedicated my night to learning how to play. Before I knew it, it was 3 in the morning and I had a full school day in front of me with an insufficient amount of sleep.

Life became a bit of a blur at this point. I struggled through the school day just so I could come home and play Vikings. When I was playing it my depressed reality melted away as I lost myself in completing quests in the virtual Nordic Lands. Everything from the poorly animated Viking ships to the unexpectedly beautiful soundtracks gave me a sense of comfort akin to cradling a cup of hot chocolate on a wintry evening. With each level or skill I earned the game offered cheery messages of congratulations. Even if my parents aren't proud of me, at least the characters in this game are.

I even found myself giggling at the cheesy jokes the developers had incorporated into the gameplay. My favorite one so far was a sword called "The Banister," which was a play on the words "banish" and banister." When used the sword would transform enemies into immobile planks of wood that would eventually disappear. Not the most effective weapon but definitely fun to use.

The other players in the game were, to my surprise, quite kind and helpful, encouraging me and selflessly rushing to my aid whenever I struggled in defeating a particularly strong enemy. The frequent loneliness I felt would be quickly dispelled by the fellow Vikings I had befriended. It was too bad they couldn't be around to alleviate my misery in real life.