[The Extras and that Terrible-looking Ogre]
By Mohamad Mohamad-Sharin

Have you ever had that squirming feeling that the world evolves around you all along, and that as if you were at the merciless center of the world's attention? Don't you think that maybe, there is somebody out there somewhere, who is stealthily making a movie out of your life? Well, if this were true and you knew that someone, wouldn't it be really cool to have him/her make that movie which you'd like to be your version? You know, the version that glorifies you with heavenly lighting and orchestral score when you've just excelled your first national exam?

Ever since I could remember anything at all, I’ve used humor as my defense mechanism. Sarcasm is my favorite offensive measure while blind faith as my means of escape. Most of the time, my intelligence would be iterated as excuse and my imagination as the ticket to ambitions. Talent and good looks never were useful at all in whatsoever circumstances that I’ve had encountered; so, they just lay idle as I charm up mediocre achievements and conjure inane bewilderment in front of the eyes of fellow acquaintances. Funny thing was, nobody noticed that about me. Hah!

During my school years, I fueled hard work with sacrifice, often of costly proportionality. Envy was my motivation; although I knew it was ethically wrong. Determination was a misread compass that only did more harm now than it had then. The only thing that was left unturned, like a rock it stood pristine pure, was regret. I never let regret hold back any of my actions. Not even the ones that would normally haunt a layman's sleep. I would let out that familiar deep breath of sheer relief from my burdened chest and say, “Life goes on, forget about this”.

In this time dimension where non-conformists are a social liability, ideas of bizarre amplitude are most commonly regarded as of highest order of nonsense and should not be equivalently treated to an input of a discussion. The way I see it, these irregularities in fruits of thought are a vast field of fresh resources which seems ludicrous at first glance. Visually sweep over a snapshot of image and amuse yourself by recalling the details of the backdrop. You could spot a grim hunter as a foreground on trees easily, but never the crass, splintered barks of the pines.

The sole point I am toiling to convey here is; in everybody's mind, they themselves are the stars of their lives. No matter how pathetic the plot goes about or how cliché-ridden the script is, you are your own Tom Hanks. You are your own Julia Roberts. The star of this movie is none other than the terrible-looking ogre you confront every morning in front of the mirror. However, [here comes the point] do not forget about the extras making up the crowd at the back. They may have minute roles and easily forgotten one-liners in a scene, but without them, you are merely an obsessed mime in your own pantomime.