of money I’d sent them. This money hadn’t even made a dent in the total debt of hundreds of thousands of baht they owed. I felt dreadful. In their desire to see the good in me, they overrated my achievements, and stubbornly clung to the belief that their formerly dutiful son was still lurking somewhere inside of me.
Our large home was eerily empty for my siblings had been forced to leave Sisaket in search of work in other provinces. The grocery store was equally bare as all our former customers had turned their backs on us.
I slowly began to re-adjust myself to rural life, and sought out childhood friends. I was confident I’d be well received but I was in for a shock. Sirin, my first girlfriend, who’d walked away when my delinquent nature proved too much, still wanted nothing to do with me. I learned from others that she was pursuing her lifelong ambition of becoming a nurse. My male friends, who were in their sophomore year at university, working towards future careers in the civil service, also distanced themselves from me. A gulf divided us; we lived in different worlds—theirs being far superior to mine. A sense of self-pity combined with jealousy clouded my mind, and true to form, I found comfort and escape in alcohol. The more aware I was of what a wasteland my future seemed to be, the more consumed with self-hatred I became. How many other people my age, having their whole lives ahead of them, could so assuredly pronounce that they despised the person they’d become?
I was no longer on a mission to find trouble, yet trouble still managed to find me. It wasn’t as if anyone else would keep me company, so it was hard to shun the sort that were associated with alcohol. In a pre-emptive strike, my parents offered to support me through university. They were already deeply in debt and couldn’t afford this additional expense, but were desperate to save me and preserve the tiny shred of dignity our family had left. In hindsight, I accepted their offer with only a vague intention of reforming. I’d been away from books so long that the prospect of returning to academia seemed surreal. With no other option, I wearily surrendered to my parents’ wishes.
I didn’t study much for the entrance exam for the faculty of humanities at Rajabhat University in Ubon Ratchathani. Considering I’d developed some English skills, it made sense to improve them further academically. My nonchalant attitude didn’t leave me holding very high hopes of passing the exam, but surprisingly, I got the grades and was accepted into the course. However, since my score was unremarkable, I was sent to study at a less prestigious campus in Kampeangphet Province towards the northern region of Thailand. My parents were nonetheless delighted; Pa patted me on the back, joking that some sort of divine intervention must have caused me to pass since my brain surprisingly still functioned despite all the alcohol I’d consumed.
On orientation day, while I was waiting to enter the auditorium for the dean’s welcoming speech, I noticed that female students outnumbered males by a three-to-one ratio. I took note that the female dormitory was located next to the auditorium. Groups of girls, wearing short skirts and tight blouses, were huddled together, nervously chatting away. Maybe university wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I was like a rooster in a henhouse and, in order to attract the resident chicks, I knew that I’d need to stock up on both cigarettes and booze. Once again, the old me was making a hearty comeback. In no time, I drank beer and smoked in deliberate bad-boy style, whilst relishing the disapproving looks I attracted from other students. Such behaviour was forbidden on campus, and their reactions served only to egg me on. Unlike the bright-eyed freshmen, I was not excited at the prospect of pursuing a higher education and I made no secret of this fact. I was certainly entrepreneurial enough to cash in on any opportunities that came
Our large home was eerily empty for my siblings had been forced to leave Sisaket in search of work in other provinces. The grocery store was equally bare as all our former customers had turned their backs on us.
I slowly began to re-adjust myself to rural life, and sought out childhood friends. I was confident I’d be well received but I was in for a shock. Sirin, my first girlfriend, who’d walked away when my delinquent nature proved too much, still wanted nothing to do with me. I learned from others that she was pursuing her lifelong ambition of becoming a nurse. My male friends, who were in their sophomore year at university, working towards future careers in the civil service, also distanced themselves from me. A gulf divided us; we lived in different worlds—theirs being far superior to mine. A sense of self-pity combined with jealousy clouded my mind, and true to form, I found comfort and escape in alcohol. The more aware I was of what a wasteland my future seemed to be, the more consumed with self-hatred I became. How many other people my age, having their whole lives ahead of them, could so assuredly pronounce that they despised the person they’d become?
I was no longer on a mission to find trouble, yet trouble still managed to find me. It wasn’t as if anyone else would keep me company, so it was hard to shun the sort that were associated with alcohol. In a pre-emptive strike, my parents offered to support me through university. They were already deeply in debt and couldn’t afford this additional expense, but were desperate to save me and preserve the tiny shred of dignity our family had left. In hindsight, I accepted their offer with only a vague intention of reforming. I’d been away from books so long that the prospect of returning to academia seemed surreal. With no other option, I wearily surrendered to my parents’ wishes.
I didn’t study much for the entrance exam for the faculty of humanities at Rajabhat University in Ubon Ratchathani. Considering I’d developed some English skills, it made sense to improve them further academically. My nonchalant attitude didn’t leave me holding very high hopes of passing the exam, but surprisingly, I got the grades and was accepted into the course. However, since my score was unremarkable, I was sent to study at a less prestigious campus in Kampeangphet Province towards the northern region of Thailand. My parents were nonetheless delighted; Pa patted me on the back, joking that some sort of divine intervention must have caused me to pass since my brain surprisingly still functioned despite all the alcohol I’d consumed.
On orientation day, while I was waiting to enter the auditorium for the dean’s welcoming speech, I noticed that female students outnumbered males by a three-to-one ratio. I took note that the female dormitory was located next to the auditorium. Groups of girls, wearing short skirts and tight blouses, were huddled together, nervously chatting away. Maybe university wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I was like a rooster in a henhouse and, in order to attract the resident chicks, I knew that I’d need to stock up on both cigarettes and booze. Once again, the old me was making a hearty comeback. In no time, I drank beer and smoked in deliberate bad-boy style, whilst relishing the disapproving looks I attracted from other students. Such behaviour was forbidden on campus, and their reactions served only to egg me on. Unlike the bright-eyed freshmen, I was not excited at the prospect of pursuing a higher education and I made no secret of this fact. I was certainly entrepreneurial enough to cash in on any opportunities that came
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