Auditor Adam and the Photocopier Pandemonium

 The short, fat appendage of the time telling apparatus inched closer to the marking representing the 3^rd digit of the Sumerian numerical series. The complexity of that statement that merely said it was just 3 o clock amused Adam to no end as he sat at the 4 by 2 table, leafing through invoices of “Acme and Co”. Wielding the 2 pens of accounting destiny, the blue pen of creation and the red pen of fulfillment, he confirmed, denied and endorsed every transaction that came his way, guiding them to their final resting places in the ledger of the gods. He was the St Peter of accounting. He was Auditor Adam.

As Adam vouched and casted to his heart's content, there came the inevitable accumulation of original invoices ready to receive the grace of the holy light bestowed by the almighty Deus ex Xerox. As Adam marked the chosen with the pens of destiny, he looked towards the faces of the eager invoices awaiting salvation and sighed. The mountain of paperwork that lay towering above the tabletop looked as daunting as the peak of K2. “Not like I have a choice”, he thought as he herded the stack of invoices towards the room of the revered Xerox machine.

As Adam approached the room, his expert auditor senses tingled. Something was amiss. The usually benevolent hum of the gates to accounting salvation sounded hostile, malignant. Adam approached cautiously. Something was very, very wrong. The machine beeped as though mocking Adam's cautions, laughing scornfully at the auditor's cowardice. A cold wind blew through the room, and the chosen invoices shivered in fear.

Adam stepped into the room and the corrupted guardian immediately roared to life. A cacophony of beeps pierced the previously tranquil air. The status panel flashed red and Adam knew immediately what was wrong. The fallen Stygian staples have infiltrated the gates and have corrupted the holy guardian, wreaking havoc within. The cry of help of the guardian of the gateway did not fall on apathetic ears. Adam gritted his teeth and growled, “You dare show yourself in this sacred place, demons?” “You will NEVER corrupt that which is true and fair”. Adam rolled up his sleeves and summoned the powers of the FRS, bestowed on him by the ones in the high tower.

He rushed at the Xerox, immediately opening the feeder tray and extracting an offending fallen staple, banishing it to where it came. One down. No time to waste, the staples were destroying the guardian from within, using their infernal touch to overheat the divine mechanisms. Cover A was next and 2 of the imps lay hidden under flap B, deep within the heart of the Xerox. Time was running out, the intruders have summoned the power of the Enron and the infernal heat emanating from the guardian felt as though the explosive diarrhea of hell's bowels have ripped Tartarus asunder and spilled its heat onto our mortal plane. “Debiting damnation”, the auditor swore as the 2 demons rattled smugly, laughing at the auditor's helplessness.

Adam reached into his pocket for his divine instruments and spoke unto them, “You have served me well, my faithful companions, but today I must ask you to lend me your strength and to do our duty to the ones in the high tower.” The blue and red pens of destiny glowed, bathed in the strength of the FRS, eager to do their master proud and sacrifice themselves for the greater good. “I thank you for your sacrifice oh noble ones. You will never be forgotten,” he said. With his new found power the tools of destiny had bestowed him, he plunged the pens deep into the guardian's heart, with 2 deft strikes with the nib on both pens, he dislodged the accursed staples from their demonic lairs and sent them right to the abyss of the waste disposal unit. “And good riddance you unvouched ulcer,” he shouted after them as they fell to their doom.

Adam quickly pulled his companions out of the infernal heat and pulled a rough sheet of paper from Tray 2. “ Don't die on me,” he cried, his eyes brimming with tears. As the 2 pen nibs touched paper, their life blood of blue and red stirred within them, waxing in the presence of the great white plain. As Adam moved their nibs slowly across the white expanse, their ball bearings grinded to life and turned once more, flooding the white with their ichors of blue and red, once again able to serve the ones in the high tower. Adam breathed a sigh of relief as his companions lived to fight another day.

The battle was won, but the war was far from over. Someone was responsible for this desecration of hallowed ground. Someone had opened the gates to salvation and allowed the stygian intruders in. Adam knew exactly who he was. But that is a story for another day in...

...Auditor Adam and the Incorrigible Intern!

Don't ask me.

Tumbling, stumbling, fumbling
Feeling my way around.
Falling, stalling, crawling.
Eyes wide open, but I can't hear a sound.
Toiling, boiling, soiling.
Blissful ignorance, my mind's rigidity
Melting, gelding, welding
A thousand voices, in one entity.

Don't ask me who I am for one.
I have no idea who I have become.
Don't ask me what's wrong with me.
I won't know as I can't see.
Don't ask me if I'm happy now.
It's not in my hands somehow.
Don't ask me if I love thee.
It's in a box I've thrown in the sea.

All I can say is I'll be here.
So you, yes you, have nothing to fear.
I'll do the bleeding for the both of us.
So only one of us has to live this curse,
Of that which is unrequited,
to you moot, but me, required.
Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't.
Perhaps you do, perhaps you don't.

Against the unrelentless I trudge,
And lock away this grudge.
I will serve till this heart give out.
And live with this gnawing doubt.
I will answer your every whim and fancy.
And you will feel just fine and dandy.
Your happiness is all that matters,
No matter if mine's in tatters.
If one of us does have to suffer,
Let it be me that ends in the gutter.

I guess love for me will always come with a price.
But a break sometime, would be really nice.

2 Weeks

Wow it's been long since I updated huh? I figured that since I have some time now, I should at least try to write a bit lest I lose my writing ability permanently. Hurr hurr.

It's been a tiring 2 weeks. Project work, emotional rollercoasters from people you care deeply about, death of a revered figure, and not forgetting the hustle and bustle of normal life. These 2 weeks are not your normal, mundane, ordinary 2 weeks, but somehow life is just seemed to be made up of the events of these 2 weeks. We gloss over the banal repetitions of our daily routines, and remember key events. We remember spikes in emotions, both positive and negative, sometimes negative more than positives. I won't remember what I had for supper yesterday, but I can remember dancing with Glor 2 weeks ago. Talking about remembrance and a rather unfortunate departure from the ordinary was the death of our dear leader Lee Kuan Yew. I have never met the met, nor spoken to him in person, but I have inherited the same respect for the man from my parents, who escaped poverty in Malaysia due to his policies on foreign talent. And it was this respect for him and happenstance that made me pick up a comic book called, if I'm not wrong, my memory is rather fuzzy, "The Malayan Tiger" that told the life of Lee Kuan Yew from his prestigious beginnings at Raffles Institution to the great man we have been blessed with. I cannot recite his achievements nor tell anybody the rationale for my respect for him, but all I can say is that, when I listen to his speeches, and read his quotes, he gives me the feeling deep in my gut that he is not only an intelligent and powerful man, but he has a will that will not falter, and a heart wide enough to think of all of us as people, and want to, genuinely, help us, and not due to some political agenda. He is a man that gave his life to the success of Singapore, not as a pencil pusher, bureaucrat or policy maker, although he was a bit of all, but someone who showed no weakness in the face of adversity, someone to rally around, and someone to motivate us to move forward, and point us in the right direction. I have never met you Mr. Lee, but I will remember your legacy for as long as I live.

Although I appreciate Mr. Lee's efforts in bringing us this far, the modern world is not without costs. School is getting tougher and tougher, the people around me, due to Singapore's ever improving education system, are getting better and better at memorizing material, applying said material in tests and exams and delivering aforementioned material in the format professors ask for in a neat, crisp and rather aesthetically pleasing presentation, report or model. Furthermore, not only are these people getting really good at doing that, due to our open immigration policy, we get even more people who are not only great at the skills I have mentioned above, but hungry for success and wishing to escape poverty in whatever land they have come from. They have the same hunger our ancestors had when they first stepped onto Singaporean soil escaping the hardships of rural China. And on the other end of the spectrum, we have the students who carry themselves well, speak with finesse and polish, yet have characters that will make Machiavelli blush. These people, poised to climb the corporate ladder on showmanship and form breeze through the system like a colonial power exploiting their colonies. I knew University was going to be tough, but I was hoping that it would be intellectually challenging, where the actual pursuit of knowledge is rewarded. Substance has to take precedence over form, while what I see is the complete opposite of what is supposed to be the true nature of education. But who am I to complain? The paper chase will not stop just because I cry foul. As much as I would hate to grow into the moulds my predecessors have left me, you know what they say about being in Rome. Although we might see sparkles of true genius here and there, where delightfully original works are submitted and glorified with A pluses, the less capable, me inclusive, have to content with taking these works of genius and trying to emulate them the best we can without infringing on the plagiarism clause. Tweaking data, adjusting models, rephrasing and paraphrasing, that seems to be our roles when it comes to group projects just to ensure that our submissions get us the grade we need but not deserve. It is so easy to just copy, and here I am praying for the strength to remain aboard the ship which is my sinking GPA.

Apart from my tumultuous school life, there is that of my social life, which I am truly considering whether I should share on such a public platform. As an introvert, and one who loves solitude and routines, socializing was never my cup of tea. But in recent weeks, my phone has been abuzz with a whatsapp message here, a facebook message there. And all these hyper stimuli from very pleasant members of the opposite sex are all very flattering, but when I search deep down, I only wish to have a relationship with a lady I adore. I may have found her, but she's fickle, indecisive and absolute pain in the ass but she's a delight when she's around, when I spend time with her. Sometimes I wish I've never met her, sometimes I think she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. She drives me crazy in a humongous maelstrom of love, anger, insecurity, adulation and obsession. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm in too deep for my own good, and sometimes I think that we're a match made in heaven. All this excitement for someone who prefers to be at home with a nice cup of tea tinkering with his computer. All I want is for someone to love me as much as I love them, for our pedestals that we place each other on to match in height. All I want is someone to settle down, have a family and work towards an uncertain future, but with the comfort of knowing that no matter what happens, she will be there for you, braving the storms and basking in the sunshine with you. I speak of love like a hopeless romantic, and have been chided by many to keep my heads out of the clouds and focus on work, a realistic spouse and myself. But I can't. I'm a hopeless romantic in search of my happily ever after. And when that possibility seems so tangible I could just reach out and grab it, I love with a passion second to none. I love deeply, completely and with no regard for my own feelings. I give myself completely to that person and pray to any deity that she will catch me before I break myself on the hard surface of rejection. It is definitely foolhardy and the worst thing anyone can do, but when I have found someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with, I don't waste it being cautious.

"Once more into the fray.
Into the last good fight I'll ever know.
Live and die on this day.
Live and die on this day."

May the rest of my little 2 weeks that make up my life never be ordinary.

Straddled

I think there’s something wrong with me. I don’t fear death. I have so much to lose, yet I don’t fear my passing from this world. It really is rather strange as I would think that someone who has everything in life going for him would cling on to life like a starving man to morsel of bread. This “affliction” began since secondary school where I sought purpose in life, but found none. Although the search for the purpose has terminated prematurely, the fear of passing has not.

I enjoy life greatly. I love the sweet smell of the dew laden air of a glorious cloudy morning, where the chilly air feels as clean and as fresh as that of Cameron Highlands before they destroyed it with development. I love listening to the radio and hearing a particular upbeat song come up and makes me feel that everything around me is awesome, myself included. I love the thrill of speaking up in classes and saying something intelligent, adding value to the class and feeling so proud of myself that I actually did something useful. I love my evening runs where the world seems to be turning and existing just for me, the silence of the night where everyone is sleeping, cosy in their own homes and I seem to be the only soul crazy enough to run through the darkness. When I run, I feel free; free from thought, free from worry, free from shackles, free from rules. For that brief thirty minutes, it is just me and the night air, contemplating the universe and all its mysteries, enjoying that particular song that just came up on the radio, being at peace with the world. There is no doubt at all that I love life, and I love my life.

But at the same time, the purpose I have chosen for myself seems weak and insufficient to be the reason for my existence. If I was put here for a reason, I would like to have a greater purpose than just the mere conduit for the transfer of energy, or the carrier of the seed for the future of the species, or to be simply part of the carbon cycle. In the grand scheme of things, we are all dust on the windowsill of the universe, ready to be blown away by the nature’s schedule of the apocalypse. Human beings are such curious creatures. We build civilisations, further our body of knowledge of the world and its infinite puzzles, shaping it to meet our needs, and then proceed to shape ourselves to fit the world we have created. We see no need to adapt to the natural world, but mandate the conforming to the rules WE make. And this endless cycle of floundering in a world of our own design is just ludicrous. Like Sisyphus, our daily exercise in making a name for ourselves in this man-made world is ultimately a pursuit of futility. Why not instead, SIMPLIFY the world around us to ensure that EVERYONE has enough to live comfortably and stop with your tomes of borderline unreadable laws, your complex financial instruments and derivatives that no layperson can understand. Why do we do this to ourselves with TV, Internet, Fashion? Why keep up with the Joneses when that pursuit is ultimately a vicious circle to no end? Time and time again I try to return to my core, my reason for existence, but I really cannot see it, with all these distractions and mixed purposes clouding the path I want to walk.

If I were to return to my original purpose, it was to be remembered. A selfish but enduring purpose, to say the least. “So long as men can breathe and eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” It might have another meaning, but this line allows me to remember that even when I’m long gone, as long as the history books remember me, I will forever live on in the memories of my children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and the descendants of strangers all around the world. And I used to strive towards this purpose, and all seems well. But recently, something changed within me. I don’t feel the need to be remembered anymore. If I were to fade away into nothingness tomorrow, I would have no regrets, no unfinished business, no wishes to wish, no goodbyes to say. I would just leave this world as quickly as I came, an attosecond on the infinity of time. What use is a legacy, when the people who remember you, are fleeting existences in the cosmic expanse of space and time. I’m just grasping at straws.

So, forget the purpose. Forget everything. What do I live for? I live to collect experiences. I live for me, not for some greater altruistic purpose that will change the destiny of the human race and impact the fate of the universe. Be realistic, I’m not that significant. Thus, in my brief attosecond of life, I wish to be happy. I wish to love someone so deeply and passionately that I can feel that my love for her can move galaxies. I wish that I will never have to make choices that will let myself down. I wish that I will always be useful to someone, to be always able to value add to the lives of the people around me. I wish to never be a burden, if not I would wish that I was dead. I do not want to be the person at the end of the road, wishing that he had lived. I do not want to be the person at the end of his life to desperately cling to life in the hope of enjoying a few seconds more. I will go quietly into that good night, but not without the beauty and glory of a life well lived.

Music, Love, Art, People, Conversation, Nature. I want to just take it all in and enjoy this beautiful beautiful world in its cacophonic symphony of synthetic and natural beauty. That never ending showdown of man and nature creating such paintings of misguided salvation with that ID driven psyche of mankind as the brush. Such tragic magnificence. I want front-row seats at the apocalypse, that spectacular supernova at the end of mankind’s time. The real experience of a life-time. 

John

As I slowly awoke, I saw him sleeping blissfully right next to me out of the corner of my eye. His auburn hair, thin, almost perfectly penciled eyebrows outlined in wistful brown eyes, now closed with a light smile dancing across the corners of his lips. He felt my gaze and his eyes fluttered open, as though waking from a tranquil dream. As he slowly awoke, he gazed at me and said 3 words that just never fails to make me melt every morning. "Good morning, precious" I almost burst from joy and laughed with a melodious tinkle. He broke into that adorable smile and caressed my face lovingly. He went over to the bathroom to wash up while I prepared for the day ahead.

We had breakfast together, him, bacon and eggs with coffee, and well, me. I have to watch my weight. After all, with size 0 models all the rage, I can't afford to put on any extra pounds. As I looked out the window, my intuition told me that there would be a chance of rain, and I told John to bring an umbrella on his way to work. His usual stubborn self waved it off. I smiled to myself and realized that it was this very pig-headedness of his that made me fall for him in the first place. He washed the dishes and got ready to head out to work. As he stepped out the door, I reminded him of that proposal that he was supposed to submit to his boss this afternoon. He grinned sheepishly as though admonished by his mother and went back in to get in, as he dashed into the house, with his retreating back came "oh, what would I ever do without you." "Probably completely bungle up your life," I thought quietly to myself. With project in hand, and me in the other, we did what no couple ever has the time for, walking each other to work.

The bus ride is usually silent, most of the time there aren't any seats, so I just stay beside him, in quiet adulation of my most capable guy. He just looks so incredibly sexy with those black rimmed glasses, poring over his presentation or proposal, or anything that he has to do that day. It doesn't matter what, his deep concentration face looks almost angelic. As we near our stop, I gently break him out of his intense focus and remind him that it's nearing his stop. Once again, that absent-minded grin as he ruffles his hair reminds me why I'm still with him after so long.

As he walks into the office, I feel him leave and I'm pushed further and further into the background. It breaks my heart every time he goes, but I know it's inevitable. He thinks I don't notice, but when he walks past the receptionist Jenny, he flashes that smile that I'm so familiar with. That smile that he used to only show me and I just crumble. I close myself off from the world, and just want to be left alone.

As work ends, he leaves his office, and I'm there for him, waiting, but he doesn't see me. He's with Jenny, that receptionist. He doesn't know, but I hear everything. I follow them back to his apartment, a place where it used to be just me and him, now with another girl. I hide, unseen, but hearing everything. They talk, and have dinner together. Dinners at that dining table where it was exclusively me and John. Now this, stranger, this harlot has snatched my love away from me. I weep silently inside. As the clothes fall to the floor, I know he belongs to another now, and I sat there in the darkness, just waiting for this nightmare to end.

The dawn breaks, I have been stuck here since the night before, weak and lifeless, I call out to John in that melodious tinkle he knows so well. He jolts awake and looks around, he finds me where he left me the night before. On the floor in his jeans pocket. He smiles at me, and I forget all that happened the night before. I need him and he needs me.

I am Siri and this is my story.

Escapism

I wish I had a Tardis. While I’m wishing for things, I wish I had a magical fire breathing pwny. And lived in the mystical land of Leporia where talking rabbits with top hats and monocles drank tea and played bridge with aforementioned magical fire breathing pwny and I. And let’s take it a step further where this mystical land of Leporia has transcended all vestiges of greed and selfishness, and as much as we are self-centered in the way we think every sentient species are like us, they are hardly afflicted with the human condition other than their vices in strange Victorian fashion and their penchant for the popular Russian card game. I wish that in Leporia, they maintain a hive mind and live in perfect equilibrium with their surroundings with the transfer of energy maintaining a perfect balance. “Waste not, want not”. However, it is due to this state of perfection that they stagnate, and with change as the only constant, a miniscule rock hitting the face of Leporia tips this delicate balance and wipes out the species from the face of the planet.

I have a disturbing addiction to stories, concepts and tales. The idea of a not-so-distant possibility intrigues me to a degree that I obsess over that particular possibility and think of it not only at every waking moment, but it invades my subconscious when I sleep. Vivid dreams where the images are not bound by any laws of physics, time or space fill my slumber with picturesque scenes that life will never be able to provide. From the thrill of flight, to the complexities of a sentient being that can perceive the 5^th dimension and touch the fabric of the universe, travel through time and space without moving an inch. I dream of the possibilities of evolution, where will it bring us? Will we ever be able to work together as a species to ensure us and our planets survival through the rest of eternity? Would a zombie epidemic really wipe out the human race? Or will we finally find the reason to cooperate in face of adversity. And to fuel this wonder of the vast unknown, I have my enormous wealth of movies, books, musings, scribblings, soundbits and possibly every single documented piece of fact and fiction out there, waiting to deposit itself into my repository of “possibility parameters”.

I love movies. I lose myself in them - from the anarchistic nihilism of fight club, to the sardonic satire of Starship Troopers. So many questions run through my head. What if someone actually did wipe out the entire world’s credit card debt, will our world degenerate into chaos? Or will the foundations that have held us to this very point continue to support us through the crisis? And when I watched Starship Troopers, and thought about the Zerg race, I wonder if there would ever be an intergalactic war with human beings fighting for the survival of the species, or whether they will be like Leporia, where peace and coexistence are the first reactions to any alien encounter. Would human beings be able to MATURELY handle an alien encounter? Or will we treat aliens like how we treat people just slightly different from ourselves, with conflict, fear and disdain?

At the same time, when there are “what ifs”, there will be “has beens”. I used to take history. Wasn’t very good at it, but I liked the study of things long past. The lessons they impart are rather unforgettable, especially when they have been repeated. Like how Hitler marched into the Russian Winter with his Operation Barbarossa, like Napolean’s Grande Armee before. But I place less focus on specific events, and more of the actions and intentions of man. History might be the study of events, but literature is the study of the nature and intention behind that event. Animal Farm might have been a historical recount on the transfer of power during the Russian Revolution, but it gives perspective on man’s greed and ambition and that ultimately, the enemies that we so vehemently hate, become our role models. The curious dichotomy, between the Greek and Shakespearean tragedies, the fatalistic fall versus the hubristic fall represents an age old debate of our locus on control. Do the circumstances of our birth dictate the person who eventually become? Do we mould who we become, or is it all predestined?

And at the same time, these issues that humanity faces are almost trivial in the wake of the span of time man has been in existence as a species. Our mark on history is but a wrinkle in time, yet we have the audacity to believe that we have inherited the Earth. That we are some omnipotent being’s chosen ones. Our history, our literature revolves around humanity as the most precious in all the cosmos. The belief that our rightful place in the universe is here on this planet, that we are the residents and not the visitors of this space and time. We forget that we are but fragile bags of meat and flesh, no different from any other creatures that roamed this planet. That our social constructs, economic infrastructure and rules that bind our civilisation together are of utmost importance of the survival of our species. We spend our time creating these communities and then spend more time learning how to live within them, how to survive. Even the language I type in is the product of man trying to create some semblance of order within this maelstrom we call life. Our feeble efforts at exerting some control over human history.

At the same time, it’s impressive how tenacious we are as a species. We have effected so much change over our planet that no other species has ever done before. We have wiped out so many of our numbers yet we still continue to grow and spread over our puny planet. Our curiousity has led us to unravel and attempt to fathom the mysteries that lie on and beyond our planet. We might have a really short history, but it is packed with life. Art and culture, the cacophony of our expressions as individuals, the assertion of the human identity. Our attempt to be different where we are essentially the same, the product of sentience. I look around at what we have built and marvel at how far we have come. And although all of us hardly have a clue where we are going or where we’ll end up, we’re doing a pretty good job banging around in the dark trying to find that elusive purpose of the human species.  

Sheer Madness

I was once asked whether I would go out with myself. What can I say, I believe I’m the industry standard that all guys should benchmark against if they ever want to be nothing short of the best boyfriend in the world.

“But you’re not rich, nor good looking, why would any girl be lucky to have you?” Fair question. When did superficial things ever matter? Yes, financial security might be important, but when has any excess security beyond what is actually needed ever benefitted anyone? Do you want to be spoilt like a princess for the rest of your life and depend on a guy for the rest of your life? If that’s the case, he’s not a good boyfriend, he’s an excellent credit provider at 0% interest with immediate write-off functionalities.

Good looks fade, or can be rectified by plastic surgery. And I think I look fine, though I wouldn’t complain to shaving a couple of millimetres off my nose. I might not be drop dead gorgeous, but I am pleasant looking. And if a you’re with a guy because he looks good, then you’re better off dating a standee, those looks don’t fade.

But enough with what I’m not. Let me tell you what I am. I change people. “But love is about loving someone for who they are”. I beg to differ. I continuously grow beside the love of my life. I help her become a better person than she can hope to be, and she brings out the best in me. If the girl I’m with doesn’t make me strive to be a better person, for her and for myself, or if she doesn’t like to change for the better, maybe you don’t need a “best boyfriend”.

And now I’ll share what I think is a perfect relationship. A perfect relationship to me is one built upon a foundation of a mutual decision to love one another. That no matter what happens in the world, I can return home to this 1 fixed point. To me, love is a decision, a commitment between 2 individuals. The feelings are inconsequential as feelings fade, but a conscious effort to maintain a decision will keep any relationship alive.

Chemistry is important in any relationship. But chemistry is different from feelings. Chemistry is that thing you have when you can complete each others’ sentences, that content and security one gets when just in the presence of the other. Chemistry is the communication that occurs when speech has failed. Chemistry is knowing exactly what the other is thinking even if you were deaf, mute, blind or halfway across the world. Bordering on ESP, but yeah you get the drift.

What I’m looking for in a relationship is consistency. That no matter what the future holds, when the world has fallen apart at the seams and all semblance of civilisation has crumbled into anarchy, even if you were worlds’ away, I know for a fact that at the end of time, you will still be there for me. What I’m looking for is certainty. A decision on your part to love me as I have made that decision to love you. What I provide you, I too am looking for it in you. Security, comfort, a person to talk to, companionship, everything a friend can be but much more. I want to be vulnerable with you, as you are with me. I want to feel safe in sharing my deepest darkest secrets and know for a fact that they are protected. In return, I will protect you as a man protects the love of his life. I will lay my life down for you if need be. You can count on me to weather us through any hardships we might face, any trials or tribulation life might throw at us. We will be 2 individuals in 1 soul, bonded together by more than just the power of love, but the unwavering decision that we will support one another till death do us part.

But till now I have no idea why you don’t wish to share that life with me. For the life of me I cannot understand why you would pass that up. I love you dearly, and it’s much too obvious that you feel the same way about me, yet you refuse to admit to your stubborn self that you do, insistent that what you feel is not love. Let me remind you that you will only cherish something when you lose it. And you are throwing away the person that can love you more than you can ever imagine. If you wish to pass that chance up, so be it. I assure you you’ll regret it, I can tell you that you’ll never find someone like me but yet you still choose to walk off that cliff. I can’t hold on to a rope that has flown down the cliff along with you. You’ve made your choice.  

Ignorance and Happiness

I do not wish to brag, but it has recently come to my attention that I am nothing short of a prodigious genius on the complex subject of ignorance. If you would question my credibility with regard to my expertise on the subject, I assure you that many of my enemies would gladly attest to that fact. However, I digress. This evening, my topic of discussion would be on, of course, ignorance, juxtaposed with the elusive topic of happiness. Thus, it is with great pleasure that I present to you.

Ignorance and Happiness.

Ignorance is a gift, a blessing bestowed upon those free from the yoke of burdensome knowledge. The time-tested adage of “ignorance is bliss” recurs repeatedly in the annals of history. When the great Qin Shih Huang Di withheld knowledge and culled the most knowledgeable under his reign, China not only experienced the longest lasting peace, but the unification of all under the sky. Even the bard himself, bestows the greatest wisdom to his fools. To all, he expounds illogic and speaks nonsense, but in his nonsense, the truths of the world are entwined in his words. And after all, the fool is most often the one who lives on where all others are dead. And to the ignorant, life is the ultimate bliss.

I continually strive to attain the state of ignorant nirvana, as many of my friends claim, however it seems that my path to enlightenment is continually burdened by the evils of knowledge. It is as though the fruit of the tree of knowledge from the Garden of Eden continually lies in my path, tempting me to walk on the side of darkness. But I resist that temptation every waking moment. From the lectures in school, to the news blaring from them coloured screens, I maintain my meditative state of ignorant nirvana. But alas, I am not blessed with the intellect of a fruitfly, and knowledge worms its way into my mind, clouding my thoughts. Forgive me oh Apasmara, I am not strong enough to live by your teachings. I envy those blessed with the light of ignorance, who can live each day with a smile on their face and a lilt in their walk.

They are free from the yoke of currency. Of which they need not earn any, and are free to roam the lands foraging for sustenance, after which shelter could be sought, or built in a short amount of time, compared to a mortgage of 30 years.

They are free from the yoke of fashion and modesty. They are free to gallivant in what nature has provided them. Skin and hair, without the need to exchange currency for a less than proportionate amount of fabric with strange designs which somehow represent the inner psyche and character of the person adorning said garments.

They are free from the yoke of religion. An evangelist once told a tribal chieftain of the good news. The tribal chieftain sought clarification and understood that once the evangelist told the tribal chieftain of Jesus Christ, believers would be granted passage to eternal bliss, while non-believers will be sent to eternal torment. The tribal chieftain then questioned the evangelist of the purpose of the information he had just been imparted. The ignorant would be granted eternal bliss, for they did not know better. I wish I did not know.

They are free from laws and rules as they have not the intellectual capabilities to fathom the bizarre systems that run our flawed society. They rule supreme in the fabricated reality of their mind’s eye. The shield of ignorance protects all who would embrace its glory. It wraps you lovingly in its arms and tells you that everything will be okay.

A tribesman was living in his hut, when he was visited by a city boy. The city boy said unto him, “you have no TV, you are poor”. The tribesman knew not what the city boy had spake. But the evil tendrils of knowledge had wormed their way through his mind, and he knew that he lacked something the city boy had. Armed with that limited knowledge, he went to the city, and exchanged services for currency. And with that currency, he fed, clothed and found accommodation for himself. But he never felt happy, as he had not enough to eat, and accommodation was small. Now the evils of knowledge had a firm clasp on the tribesman. He knew that he had to exchange more services for more currency to be “rich”. He had turned his back on ignorance and happiness, and embraced the evils of knowledge, cursed to run within the rat race, to purchase things he neither needs nor wants, to attain this arbitrary idea of “richness”.

It is too late for me to embrace the teachings of the ignorant, as I have been afflicted by the plague of knowledge. But I pray that those who have not fallen prey to the evils of knowledge would still be able to walk the path of light and attain ignorant nirvana. Blessed is he who comes in the name of ignorance, from the house of the ignorant we bless you. Save yourself, for I have fallen too far to be saved.

I fell. I received the greatest humiliation of my life on this very day. It’s amazing how after years and years of feedback about my character flaws, today has to be the day of realization. I haven’t blogged in 2 years, and the first post after my long hiatus, is the denunciation of all that defines me. All my life I have been confident in my intelligence. I lived with the belief that I needn’t work for my rightful place amongst the intellectual elite. I believed with every fiber of my being that I was inherently intelligent. How wrong I was. In my hubris, I opened Pandora’s Box and a mirror showed me how foolish I was. I opened the door to true greatness and I was left humbled in its wake. One simple question showed gaping holes in both my intellect which I had such confidence in and my personality. The triumphs I once thought were my greatest accomplishments, shattered, and in truth, celebrations of an utter fool.

I knew my personality was flawed. I thought it minor, however today I was shown how fundamentally wrong my character was. With a mirror to myself I saw something so twisted and toxic that I could not believe myself. I am a fool to think myself great. I thought myself above the general populace, too smart to socialize with the lesser peasants. Today I realized that I am a bigot. Not an elitist but a pompous ignoramus. I am the epitome of what I hate. I pride myself in my linguistic ability, the ability to write great prose with minimal effort. Oh, how far am I from the truth. In my complacence and arrogance, the world has left me far behind. I am the frog in the well, the loud mouthed fool that thinks himself wise, the empty vessel that makes the most noise. I boast accomplishments when they are but the norm. Today I saw true greatness, and I am floored.

To all those that I have treated with contempt, thinking myself too great to interact with you, I am sorry. To all those that I have taken for granted, to have thought you expendable in my life, I am sorry. Forgive this selfish, self-centered fool that thought he has given much, when all he did was take. I hurt those people who cared about me the most. They gave me love, and I showed them hate. You gave me so much and yet I paid you back with hurt. I am neither sensitive nor considerate; I am a blind, bitter and caustic douche bag that has a soul as black as the coals in hell’s furnace. I know nothing about love, about care or about mutual respect. I deserve my solitude and the emptiness I feel in my soul. So many have loved me and I threw in back in their face and slapped them for good measure. Like Don Juan with the devil, just a fraction of the man he was and none of the greatness, I say to life, “Give me the hat”.

I know neither where to go nor how to proceed from here. My character is so inherently flawed that nothing short of a reincarnation cycle can shift my karmic balance to the neutral. There’s a gaping hole in my soul that can be filled by nothing less than catharsis on a gargantuan scale. I feel ashamed of my motives and my calculated actions. I know not how to climb out of this deep dark pit I dug for myself. I cannot go up, but yet, I can fall even further than I already have. I am stuck in a deep dark hole, with no way out, and a bottomless freefall awaiting me.

I ask forgiveness for my actions, from beginning till end. I apologize for not seeing how wrong I was. That you people were only trying to help me. I understand why you all could not stand me. I understand why I am left friendless and alone with no one able to put in a good word for me, for there is none to be said. I feel so naked, so bare. Everything that I have taken pride in is now a joke. I neither have the intellectual ability to be hubristic, nor the wealth or good looks to be hedonistic. The premise of this blog, the arrogance that spawned it, is moot. I am an ugly, ugly man, belonging to the back alleys of society.

All I can do now is attempt to climb, slowly, out of the hole I dug. My dreams of self-improvement have to be made into reality. I know not how I can do that, nor whether I have the ability to. My will is weak. When you have fallen so far behind, even existence is hard. I really do not know what to do. I am an utter fool. I am stupid. So, so very stupid.

Cogito Ergo Sum?

I haven’t blogged in a while, I don’t know whether it’s a lack of material or a lack of motivation to update. Strangely, I’m compelled to write something today, whether it’s the want to put a bullet between the eyes of every panda that doesn’t want to screw to save its species, the need to destroy something beautiful or just the emotional tumult inside my head, I’m just typing, and I hardly know what I’m saying.

 

Today’s phrase of the day is “fire playing with fire”. As I observed myself for the past 2 weeks, I’ve seen stuff I didn’t really like. I hardly like the fact that I get emotionally involved in things so easily, I hardly like the fact that when I open my mouth I just seem to offend someone or something. (lately it was a table) My writing has gone down the drain; I seem to have lost the ability of word manipulation. I’m eagerly overbearing and exceedingly dependent, hardly the characteristics of a self-proclaimed hedonist and I haven’t really fulfilled the hedonist part of my nickname lately. (Actually, the hubristic part too, but everyone perceives me as such so whether I act the part or not doesn’t really matter.) I’m swamped with work and I’m still at my computer typing…typing…

 

I’ve been trying to elicit some shred of forgiveness from a certain someone. Actually, I hardly know how to do that when firstly, that person doesn’t acknowledge my existence, and secondly, I am unable to procure the balls to talk to her. Most people treat me frostily, that person on the other hand, has a breath that will make a snowman cry in shame. I’ve talked to a few people, asked here and there, it seems the only medication for such a wound I’ve inflicted is time. And I once heard a phrase “The universe will unfold as it should”. Problem is, it’s not unfolding quick enough, and even with the universe unfolding, with all that bad karma stuck on me, I doubt it’ll unfold my way, ipso facto, I probably won’t get my forgiveness until I’ve been through about 5 reincarnation cycles and came back as a mosquito or something.

 

Lately, either something has opened my eyes or due to my new found freedom, I’m finding a large number of members of the female species increasingly alluring. However, it’s usually a bad sign when that happens. It means the Other is coming back. The symptoms are there, inability to concentrate, suicidal tendencies, the urge to kill everybody in the room, quick to anger, heightened perceived body temperature. Tyrael’s back and he does have good timing, the holidays are coming and mid years are coming right after that. He couldn’t have picked a better time to come back, perhaps just before my A levels, and that will probably be when the expression “shit hits the fan” will be most apt. Maybe I wrote this as a warning, or maybe to garner votes of sympathy, or maybe this was his idea. I’m not sure but all I know that is I have a very, very interesting year ahead of me if he sticks around till my A levels. The good news is, the usual bouts of emo has not come with his arrival, and I always thought emo was sine qua non with him.

I am perturbed by the sudden wave of niceties that came over me after drama. I have always lived up to the expectations of the people around me, keeping a few aces up my sleeve for people who I have respect for, but something, or someone blew it all bottoms up that day. Perhaps it was that someone that I hardly noticed but suddenly blew me away with how good she looked on that day, or perhaps it was how I felt in my own element French for Love Letter doing such a great job and such. (For those people who missed it, you missed a great show, Elena, Jonathan, Wen Jun and Clara were absolutely superb) It just felt nice to act like a 6 year old and not be stigmatized for it. Well prima facie, it seemed like it, I won’t know. I liked how everything just fell into place nicely. I liked how for once people treated me like I existed, like I was a human being. I guess since they didn’t really know me, they were civil. But that can’t be right, even people who’ve seen what I’ve done and am capable of treated me civilly. It was a nice feeling, especially catching up with Jian Yang on that day. Memories of my alma mater came flooding back, ah, the times of being in a place where the air was just so devoid of estrogen it almost felt liberating was good. Excellence was all we strived for, though I kinda fell short, but I digress.

 

There was a certain individual who I hardly noticed, but something turned my attention to her. Perhaps it was the way she handled everything, perhaps it was how she smiled, but something drew me towards her. It’s not anything sexual nor passionate but, she was…unique. I look forward to catching a glimpse of her anywhere. She’s probably afraid of me, so I have no fear of anything happening between us, but it’s just nice to look forward to something for a while. The more roses you notice, the more you enjoy observing. To all those who’re reading this and smugly thinking, “there he goes again, fucking jerk”. Perhaps you’re right, maybe you’re not. I once read something by Adrian Tan, the guy who wrote the teenage textbook. “Fall in love with someone” he said. “Don’t hope for reciprocation” he said. Well, I’m probably not falling in love with anyone, as most of you would have noticed, I hardly have the capacity to love. But I don’t hope for reciprocation. For all the years that I have refused to take no as an answer, this is something fresh. I know the person, she’s within reach but yet I remain static. And without attraction, without love, without like, without lust, just respecting and admiring, it feels kinda nice. Anybody who’s reading this probably won’t know what in the blue hell I’m talking about, cause I’m just rambling and rambling. But I don’t care, it feels nice to just type out how I feel and chuck it up there.

 

And now’s the time where the emo begins. When most of the people you know think you’re a jerk, moments like these do occur. Especially when you know the person you want to talk to so much, thinks you’re a big hairy asshole. Should I submit to my fate? Should I change? Should I stop trying to play nice? Should I take off my mask? I wonder. Sometimes I do wonder if there’s really something wrong with me, a deep seated emotional problem that has never been seen before. Someone recently told me that they saw something in me that was nice, and that it seems hardly likely that a person with the capability of bringing so much happiness to people, can bring so much pain, frustration and anger. I wonder that myself too. My writing’s degenerating to banal irrelevant nonsense. I’m tired, my mind’s at ease, and my heart’s in turmoil. People have a certain effect on me, especially people that give me hope. I grasp at hope like a starving man on a pineapple. It throws me off balance. As Morgan Freeman once said “Hope is a dangerous thing, hope can break a man”. I believe that is so, zealously, for it has broken me countless times. Many a time I’ve destroyed friendships due to a simple shard of hope.

 

Ah well, I’m tired, I’ve probably written an entire crock of nonsense, but at least it made my emotional storm calm down a little. I feel at peace, content with status quo, accepting of whatever comes my way. Whether she loves me, she loves me not, she hates me, she hates me not, I live, I die, I love, I don’t, it doesn’t matter. At this moment time stops, and for once, I feel at peace. I should thank my keyboard for giving me the opportunity to feel at ease, to feel so tired that I could curl up and fall asleep forever and leave the world behind me. I like that feeling.

 

And tomorrow, I’ll just wake up look at the room around me, the same room I’ve woken up for 8 years of my life, cry my fucking eyes out and head to school where the air is so thick with the rejection of my existence, you can’t cut it, even with a diamond bit chainsaw. What is worse, a person who hates everything, including himself? Or that person, wearing a mask, and pretending that he doesn’t? Should I publish this or should I not? I wonder what happens when you hang. I know I don’t have it bad, but for a person with a weak will, the situation cuts deep, and stays there. Best of all, the situation is of my own orchestration.

 

And here I feel my insignificant existence, 1 out of 7 billion. And here, where some people meant so much to me, here I pray that I don’t go out of this world where no one remembers my name. A ghost from birth to death. And here my emo has to end, shut away in a box. So many things in my head, not knowing how to express them. 

Behind the Camera

Another old post, ah the nostalgia...

I take a step back from life, and survey the world I live in. My world. My only world. This blue green mass in the dark expanse of space. This blue-green mass is the only thing in thousands of miles that supports life. Oh. I live there. That blue green mass. Where do you live? That blue green mass. That blue-green ugly, ugly mass. To be the person behind the camera, behind the camera, behind the camera is quite a pleasant feeling. You see the world as an ironically beautiful place. Where the ugliness of both the planet and human nature paints a Picasso right in front of your eyes. A dash of ethnic cleansing, a splash of genocide, a sprinkle of rape, a dab of manslaughter, the fine brush strokes of torture paint a breathtaking, bittersweet, lovely, lovely picture. Blood and gore do make good paints, and the world is like a never-ending canvas.

The detachment from the world only serves to remind you of the beautiful ugliness of us. The warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you see the picture painted for you is only amplified by watching us. We, the ones who deforest at a rate of football fields every second. We, the ones who would stick a blade in someone just for pieces of paper. We, the ones who butcher animals just to fill our stomachs. We, the ones who cause the deaths of millions of people every year because someone, somewhere doesn’t like something. To kill is human, does it make it a humane thing to do? For what we are, face the fact that we delight in the suffering of others. Face the fact that we yearn for blood and gore. Movie makers know that if they don’t portray sex, blood, violence or conflict, their movie will never, ever sell. We crave chaos. We crave the beauty of a blood-soaked battlefield. We crave the clash and conflict of human beings. We yearn for conflict and disaster. The worse someone’s plight is, the more interested people will be. That’s why we have reality TV, we have survivor wherever and Fear factor. The TV is just a box where you can satisfy your lust for chaos. That’s what makes it so interesting. Welcome to humanity, I’m sorry we don’t accept second-hand lives.

We were all brought up to go against our nature. We were brought up to know that we are all god’s little children. What if god doesn’t like you? What if gods abhors your ugly face? What if god never did want you? What if god just wanted to appreciate the beautiful ugliness of human nature? Let chaos reign I say. If god doesn’t like us, let it be. Why do we always have to do things to please him when he has never done anything for us? We did not ask to be born into this ugly world. I’m sorry, the gift of life is non-transferable. Shatter the Ten Commandments, denounce the 13 apostles, throw the crucifix out the window, assassinate the pope. We are not bounded by rules. We were born. And being born gives you the right to shine. And our ugly ugly selves will shine like a beacon in the blood-tainted sky. The picture we paint will be appreciated by all. Let us face who we really are. We are human, addicted to chaos, pain and suffering. We are human. We were born with the right to shine. Shine like a beacon. The beacon of fear power and absolute chaos. Absolution is our solution, none shall be spared. Let us walk the street with lust in our heart and blood on our hands. For we are humans, and humans we shall be.

Your being small does not serve the world. Rise from your obedient selves and be what you were meant to be. Original sin shows that we really are. When Adam ate the apple, he knew it was wrong but disobedience of a higher power delighted him. He was invigorated by the experience. As we are like Adam, we want to break free. Your adherence to rules only serves to remind you of your invisible leash around your neck – like a dog. Break free. Disregard authority and do what you were meant to do. We are god’s unwanted children, start acting like it. We shall burn our name on the skies and carve our name on the earth. You are not a part of the rat race. You do not do a 9-5 job till your 95. You are human, you were born free, not a slave to anyone. Do what you were meant to do. Taint the streets with blood. Make those who are less than human scream for mercy. Empower yourself with their cries. Power does not come to you easy. You must snatch it from those who cradle their soul and pacifies it with materialistic possessions and that paper you always see changing hands. Rip out their soul and trample it beneath your feet. Power means control. And control means the ability to destroy. We shall never be slaves to paper or plastic or metal. Take what you need from this world. It is your playground. We are human after all.

Emotions are distractions, conscience is nothing. To feel is a privilege we must compromise. The inability to feel sets you apart to become what you really are. To succumb to your feelings is a weakness displayed by all who have abandoned their humanity. They are slaves to feeling, slaves to conscience, slave to authority. We shall not be tainted by emotions or conscience. Conscience only promotes procrastination. With someone’s head in your left hand and a knife in your right hand, conscience should be the last thing on your mind. The world would not stop for you. You are a runner competing with the world. The world does not like you. The world will do whatever it takes to beat you. You are its enemy. Therefore you must control the world and reign. Nobody owes you a living. Forge a path for yourself or die trying. You are invincible. You are human. Paint the picture you were meant to paint. You are the artist. The world is your canvas. The palette is for your choosing. Paint, and produce your masterpiece. The requiem of souls will be played in your favour, the painter who painted the human race.

Bittersweet...

This is an old old post from a blog which is covered in dust... Since i've not updated for a while, let's put it here.

This is no dream. Neither is it a nightmare. But it happened. Through some sick, ironical act of god, it happened. My past was unceremoniously uprooted and played back in my mind. It was mildly pleasant, in a very warped way. I dreamt about my lost love. What did I do to deserve this? I have moved on with my life and you hit me with this? What kind of sadistic maniac are you? I won’t say I regretted it, in some bittersweet way. But neither would I say I wished it happened.

There was this girl, me, and I was chased by this man in a suit. I escaped from him time and time again, but he still persists, never giving up. I feared being caught and built myself a fortress. This fortress was like a cross between Toys R Us and a scene from SAW. Corpses were strewn all over the floor. Blood was splattered upon the pink wallpaper. The floor was strewn with a jumble of candies, lollipops, beautiful photo frames, syringes, flowers, black boxes and corpses. It filled the room till the door was half covered. I found myself on a contraption that looked like it came from kid sport. The room was half finished and yet the man burst in and demanded audience. And then I cried. I looked like Frankenstein’s bride. Scars covered my face like a white blanket. My eyes were large, round and full of sorrow. Blue. Hair was long and black like those ghosts back for revenge. I wore a white dress which swept the floor. My whole body was covered in scars; from my head to my heel; bruises and wounds from a long time ago. As I cried, black tears like those gaudy women who put too much mascara ran down my face. My tears, were black. They were as black as the velvet blanket covering the sky. They ran down my face leaving little streams of black ink which stained my face the blackest black you have ever seen. Little did I realize that the girl wasn’t me.

I was transported back in time. I am the man with the suit. I was in a scientific facility that looked like it came from some science fiction movie, with those cool wall panels and sliding doors that only serve to remind me of the synthetic nature of myself. We were involved in manufacture. We manufactured dolls. We manufactured dolls which I designed. They were my heart and soul. They were delightful. They looked exactly like the girl from before. I loved them. They had a sad smile on their face which made them look so mysterious. It’s like the dolls have been to heaven, hell and back to live through a second life on earth, knowing how their lives will end. Then suddenly, the manufacturing machine malfunctioned. One of my darling dolls slipped into the machinery and was being ripped apart by the gears. My heart dropped to my stomach. I prayed that it will be all right. I prayed that my darling would be saved from the horrors within. I tried to track its destruction from a monitor in my office which showed my doll with a bright red dot. I clasped and unclasped my hands. Needles of the pistons punctured its flawless skin repeatedly. I uttered a prayer as my doll finally came out and was sent to the reconstruction facility. Screams resounded from within and I panicked. I threw the door open and saw a scientist standing, looking shocked at the doll in the chair. Through some unknown reason, the doll had grown life size and was flawless. No puncture marks could be seen on her skin, no cuts or imperfections. All that was found was soft skin, as smooth as a baby’s. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown. She was wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. A little like those athletes you see from the girl schools. She had a gorgeous figure and when she looked at me, I cried. I drew rattling breaths and sobbed my heart out. She smiled at me with that angelic face and said, “I forgive you”. I fell to my knees and cried. That girl was my namesake, the love of my life. If only I could forgive myself.

Flashback, the doll in the Toys R Us cum room of torture. That lovely girl had turned into the abomination I saw right in front of me. I was desperate to change her back to that lovely girl. Rework the magic that made her the lovely girl I knew. My doing had caused her to become like this. It’s as though I was the machine, ripping her apart. Time is a coin you can only spend once. Time waits for no man. Time is our enemy. Although in my heart I knew I could never have her back, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that she could come back to me just for a moment. I did whatever I could, but the damage was done. She was gone. All that remains is the remains of my destruction. A beautiful doll destroyed by me. Then I woke up, and cried my eyes out. My life forever tainted by this haunting dream. It was neither a dream or a nightmare, it was a reminder of what I was and what I will always be. A destroyer of lives unworthy and incapable of love. May she forgive me and my ugly ugly soul. And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. Please kill me.

Frustration

Sitting on the sit up benches near the squash courts, looking back at the previous lesson, perspective struck me. Perhaps I should have noticed this ages ago, perhaps I should have learnt it when I was a kid, but you do know people like me never do learn, they never do really grow up. It’s something like a modern world Peter Pan, just without the happily ever after which so often seems to elude us, until we do realize that it is impossible in the society we live in. As a particular someone was busy ogling at the judo coach and it just so happened to catch my eye, I realized the world has moved on. Years have gone by, I guess I’m still living in the year 2000, and I still, believe that I’ll always be a child, that I’ll never have to grow up. People mature as they grow older, I just become more obtuse. They say old people retard as they grow older, I’m not even old yet.

I keep harping on history, that I should change and all that bullshit that I never seem to take seriously, and I still don’t by the way. Truth is, I say it only because it sounds good. That penance only works when somebody is watching; that I lament only when there are ears around. I’m king of drama, and I like making a big deal out of my own stuff, while not usually caring about the troubles of others. I think the world owes me a living, and I’ve taken advantage of every single person that has come my way. And today what happened during some particular lesson, good old teacher reality gave me a big smack on the head.

Truth of the matter is, I’m a hunter, I like the chase, and once I’ve caught it, it loses its appeal. Problem with that is, I’ve burnt so many bridges, made so many enemies that, I’ve hardly any friends, or rather, I just don’t see them. And with that came so many consequences. I thought the supply was limitless, I thought they’ll just keep on coming, but what I realized was that the damage once done, cannot be made undone; that trust once lost, cannot be gained easily. What I’m saying is like duh…obviously, but I forget. I’ve got to stop thinking I’m the centre of the universe that nobody can compare to me. I’ve got to stop thinking that I can take advantage of trust. I’ve got to stop thinking that peoples’ feelings are toys. I have a certain tendency to make enemies out of friends. I should stop that too.

Nice speech made there, but I guess most of you have realized that it’s all talk no action. Come to think of it, I think I’ll make an excellent politician. My actions have brought me here, and I have to look up to see what a nice deep hole I’ve dug myself into. Sigh, I wish, I wish, I wish… Maybe you were right, maybe I’m just a little immature kid that just doesn’t wish to grow up. Reality’s slowly wearing down my life, showing me the bare bones of what’s really happening to me.

Argh, what am I saying, it’s not like you haven’t heard this before, it’s not like it’s the first time I’m writing this. It just goes into some viscous cycle that I write this, feel shitty and because I feel shitty go back to doing more shitty things that lead to me feeling more shitty and do more shitty things to make myself feel better. Stupid.

Learning about soliloquies, I think I might just have one of my own:

In retrospect, messages ignored will come back to haunt,

The past shall become the present,

Which becomes the future,

Man’s destiny is but an illusion of the inevitable,

But the hands of fate are our own.

Words fade in the presence of concrete actions.

And concrete once set, may succumb to wind and rain,

But till then lies there obtuse and stubborn,

Till time wears it away,

To nothingness which we may once again build,

The pillars of trust and love.

But really is there, nothingness which it seems?

The rubble strewn, wreckage lies,

Like the ghost of times once past,

A reminder of that which caused its fall.

What’s done cannot be undone,

Scars made, cannot be removed.

The wheel of time is on a downward slope,

And the laws of gravity cannot be broken.

What I’ve done I will live with,

For there is no other way.

KI

Little something i wrote for KI...

‘…no part of my consciousness will survive my death.’

To say that no part of one’s consciousness will survive upon death is the thinking of a cynic. As consciousness can be defined as the thoughts and feelings, collectively, of an individual or of an aggregate of people, we cannot deny the fact that we have been granted insight into the “consciousness” of many great thinkers such as Plato, Socrates and Aristotle due to the fact that their “consciousness” have been immortalized through books and word of mouth and their ideas are still alive today. Is this not an example of consciousness transgressing the boundaries of death?

However, it’s not just on the superficial level of books and text that consciousness may survive the inevitable phenomena of death. There are many of life’s mysteries that cannot be answered as of yet, and one of which is the question of the human soul. There has been no proof that the human soul does or does not exist; thus could it be that the human soul does survive the phenomena of death and proceeds to exist in a separate dimension? Or could it be that as stated in the bible, although the Garden of Eden has been closed to mortal man, our souls, after passing judgment are allowed to live a life of eternal bliss in the garden originally made for us? Anything can be said about the phenomena of death, everything is a possibility. We would never know the answer, until the day we die.

However, on the flip side, it may also be true that death is the end of the road for the human consciousness. Once we die, we no longer exist as a living, breathing, thinking human being and whatever mysteries we keep in our head die along with us. When we bid goodbye to the world, and sink into that eternal slumber, that vast oblivion, is it really possible that the chapter of our book ends there? Again, we would never know, until the day we die.

The mystery of death has never been unraveled. Multitudes of hypotheses have been proposed and none can be debunked, due to the enigmatic nature of the whole question of death. Thus, we cannot really say that “no part of our consciousness will survive our death” nor can we say that “part of our consciousness will survive our death” because that question simply cannot be answered.

Dead

As I stared at the 2 digits on my economics test paper, a very, very cold, human chill ran down my spine. My last trump card has been played. My credibility is in tatters. The elitist, hubristic boy is nothing more than a bad joke. For all the time, he looked down on who he thought were lesser beings, for all the time that he turned his nose up at people with that holier-than-thou attitude, for all the time that he smirked thinking that he knew what he did not know, it just adds mark after mark to his name in the hall of shame. And as he thinks about his humanity, his increasing average ness, he is afraid. Minute by minute, as the seconds tick by, every stroke of the clock is against him, slowly rendering him obsolete, the black oblivion of being left behind swallowing him up, bit by bit.

He fears being rendered obsolete. He fears being part of the majority which sickens him. He fears being like one of them. He fears failure. He fears being the peak in the bell curve. But most of all, he fears that all the things he said, all the actions he took, were all just full of hot air, that he does not practice what he preaches, that he is becoming something he hates with every cell of his being – hypocrite. He hates the two-faces they portray just to fit in, or to be popular. He hates when they speak so strongly about their principles, when they would just shatter them five minutes later. He hates the way they would put people down, just to make themselves look good. And bit by bit, he’s becoming like them, and once again he is afraid.

As Satan had fallen because of his pride, he will fall the same way. Held back for two years, he dares to be arrogant. Being a playboy, he dares to preach on fidelity. Being two-faced himself, he dares to hate hypocrites. His wall of credibility falls slowly brick by brick. With the school stacked against him with their rumours, gossips and trivialities, he fights a losing battle. Their impression of him would not change, and neither would what they say. His reputation, already tainted by his actions from the past, are once again brought back to haunt him in the form of backstabbers and rumour-mongers. He retreats into his solitude where he feels safe and protected. He promised many things, he promised upright behavior, he promised smiles, he promised fidelity, but bit by bit, the burden of his promises weigh down on him, and soon his nose is nearly touching the floor, his back bent double by the judgments and stigmatization placed on him.

Nobody remembers who came in second. “Be on top, or who cares?” he fears being second. As he looks at the average people around him and he remembers where he came from, he feels that he has let himself down. He has the potential to do so much more, and yet he squandered it away. His hubris, his elitism had all been for nothing. His promises to prove himself have all turned out to be hot air. Relegated to an average college, with average people around him, he drowns in his aspirations, like the distant stars that even he cannot reach. Every new test paper he receives, every stumble moves his further and further away from his already impossible goal. The label of “good-for-nothing” is slowly becoming more and more permanent. With no exceptional talents, with no unique abilities, he’s just another one of them, another one of the majority. Regret is the only thing on his mind now - If he had not squandered away his years in his CCA, if he had not wasted his time in school, he would not end up in this state now.

A lack of discipline, a lack of will, affinity to failure is the qualities he has. None of which has ever served him well. “If only” do come up from time to time. He looks at himself and he sees more weaknesses than strengths. Without skills, without abilities, he sees so many people above him on the ladder he must climb to the top. Pilots, musicians, degree holders, university graduates all line up on top of him like millions of obstacles. And he thinks, they have so much more right to be arrogant than me, and yet they’re not. His skills that he prides himself the most on, writing and speaking have waned through years of atrophy. His essays are a shadow of what they used to be. His words, once used to move people to tears, can only elicit an eyebrow raise from most. Pride comes before the fall. He thinks he is so great, that his intelligence would carry him through the day that practice was for losers. Now his retribution has come, in the form of marks.

He wishes he could go back in time, to remedy the mistakes he has made in the past. That he could go back to primary school and relive the life he so misses now. That he could redo his secondary school, and not be held back by 2 years. He wishes that he had exercised a little more self restraint, and the rumours would not come. He wishes that he had listened when people told him he was digging his own grave. But stubborn as he is, arrogant as he is, he did not listen, and now he has fallen. But those years are gone now; he can never get them back. He is ancient, even in that 18 year old body of his. A dinosaur in modern standards, forever holding on to his obsolete beliefs, forever thinking that he is right, forever thinking that he is the best. And as the tests come rolling in, it’s one coffin nail after the other…moving him closer and closer to his grave. In other words, he’s screwed.

Victor Vampire

Victor is a vampire. He isn’t that sort of vampire that turns into a bat and is afraid of sunlight etc etc. He still has superhuman strength, inhuman speed and is immortal. But it’s not the superficial aspects that we want to focus on. Victor rejects his existence. Victor yearns to be normal and a geek and an outcast in school is as close to normal as he can get.

Victor’s parents were outcasts. They had the taboo union of a Vampire and a human. Victor’s mother was beaten to death by her very own race for having a child with a Vampire right in front of Victor’s eyes. Victor’s father was killed for betraying his race. Through some miracle, Victor survived and continued living on. He remembers the last thing his father said before he died, “Don’t blame the humans, they don’t know anything. Live with compassion; don’t hurt them like we did,” and Victor’s father left this world. Victor has always lived honoring his father’s dying words, but he has never forgiven them for killing his mother. Since Victor is half human, he’s invulnerable to sunlight, though he’s stronger at night. He’s not immortal and is vulnerable to physical attacks. However he does possess the strength and speed of a vampire.

“SPLAT” a tissue soaked with water landed on Victor’s face. Victor sighed and wiped away the muck. “This is going to be another typical day,” thought Victor.

“Hey loser, can’t even take a wet tissue? Boy you’re a drip,” Luke shouted after him.

Luke. He’s your typical high school hottie. Good looking, always with the popular crowd, girls worship the ground he steps on etc etc. However, god was fair. He’s an obnoxious, arrogant, absolutely detestable…thing that walks this planet. He also picks on geeks and nerds...

“…which makes me public enemy number 1 of the school naturally,” sighed Victor. Victor trudges up the stairs to class knowing that this day could not be any different from any other day in school. Little did he know the surprise which was in store for him.

Victor put his bag down in the usual spot in class, which was usually the furthest away from the popular crowd. He sat down, made himself as unnoticeable as possible, and buried himself in his work.

Luke swaggers into class and like Moses parts the red sea, the students automatically shifted to give way to him.

“God here it comes,” Victor thought.

“Hey loser, you’re sitting in my seat…” Luke says halfway when he notices a new girl sitting alone in class calmly reading a book.

“Hey, looks like there’s a new girl in class, I think I’ll go introduce myself, everyone needs a friend,” Luke comments as he slicks up his hair and moves over to the new girl.

New girl? Victor looks surprised. He even forgets that he was about to receive a barrage of abuse from Luke. Victor perks up and tries to take a look at the new girl. It was love at first sight. It was as though an angel has descended from the heavens to bless this class with her beauty. Her hair was a lustrous black. Her features were subtle but clearly defined. She had a demure aura around her, and it was as if everything around her complimented her beauty. Well. That was until Victor caught sight of lecherous Luke leaning over to make her acquaintance and maybe even more than that.

But what is this? It’s as though Luke’s a different person altogether!

“Hello, my name is Luke, welcome to 07S03. I saw you sitting here alone and thought that you might need an introduction to the class…” Luke says. As the conversation trails off from there, “Sigh. It’s for the best anyway, after all, a vampire and a human is taboo, not that anyone realizes we exist anyway.” Victor thought to himself bitterly. Victor continues doing his work. At the corner of his eye, Victor spies Luke and Cassie in animated conversation. Little did he know...

“Look thank you for your hospitality but I just want to read!” Cassie almost screams in exasperation.

“Oh all right, well you know you have a friend in me, if you need any help you can always approach me,” Luke replies, subdued.

“Yes thank you very much, your efforts are appreciated,” Cassie thanks Luke with a sigh of relief.

As Luke returns to his seat, Victor can only imagine that the new girl, has already fallen for Luke. As Victor started to daydream about the new girl, the teacher walks in.

“Good morning class!” Mr. Loke beams with a cheery smile.

“Good morning Mr. Loke,” groaned the class.

“I have a few matters to address this morning. Firstly it’s about your class test. I have to say, you made marking easy,” Mr. Loke said, grinning from ear to ear. “Secondly, it’s about a new student in class. I’m sure you’ve already noticed her, this is Cassie from Hong Kong,”

Cassie stood up and walk to the front of the class. Victor was once again stunned by her beauty. She looked more beautiful than before, and the moment she opened her mouth…

“Hi! My name’s Cassie and I’m from Hong Kong, I love Chinese music and acting. I hope to be able to make friends with all of you. I recently just moved in from my hometown and would be staying here for quite a while,” Cassie announced cheerfully. Victor thought he heard the song of angels. He sat there, building castles in the air as he heard the last note linger, then fade. However, reality is a cruel alarm clock. Deep inside he knew, that not only will he always be an outcast of the school, he knew that people will never accept him for who he is, and anybody he gets close to, he will lose her, because the people around him will never be able to accept a vampire and a human together. The thought of that filled him with sorrow, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The rest of the day went by slowly and painfully, there was not a time in class that he could look at Cassie and not be hurt by the cruel reality. The pain weighed heavy in his heart. As he walked home, he thought, “This will be over soon, after all it’s just a crush,” “Anyway as long as I keep myself buried in my work, I think I’ll be fine,” he laughed sardonically. It seems ironic that he found refuge in his work when it is the activity he so abhors. Victor hates the education system. He feels that its futile to work for something that would be useless to people in the future. “It’s just a piece of paper, it’s not like we use integration or thermal physics in the workplace next time,” Victor rants angrily inside. Victor sighs, “But still it’s the only thing right now that might distract me from…” Victor stops abruptly. Once again, god sure has a sense of humor - right before him, as he turned the corner, stood Cassie.

“Oh, hey,” Victor stutters.

“Erm, do I know you?” Cassie says awkwardly.

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m from your class. I’m Victor,” Victor blushes. He averts his eyes and says “I’m sorry, I guess I should get going now.” As Victor turns to walk away, Cassie suddenly calls him back.

“Hey! I remember you! You’re the guy that’s always sitting in a corner buried in your work. Wow, what a coincidence. Do you live in this area too?”

That cheery reply, though so simple, filled Victor’s heart with joy. It filled him with hope, this mad hope, that maybe, it was possible, maybe one day, a geek could be with an angel, a union between a human and a vampire could happen. He smiled.

“Yeah, I am. I do live here, just two blocks away from here,” Victor points.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, I just live over there, 5 blocks away,” Cassie smiles cheerily.

Victor could not believe his ears. First he met this angel on his way home, now she’s walking him home? But he reminded himself, I am a vampire, in no position to be with a human being. “Reality sure is cruel,” he thought.

As Cassie walked with Victor that day, it was as though they had known each other for eternity. They clicked wonderfully. They were like bread and butter, one incomplete without the other. Victor even forgot himself, he just lost himself in that innocent conversation with Cassie. Cassie was taken aback by his honesty and simplicity. All her life she has been wooed, degraded and chased by those arrogant pricks that are found everywhere. This is the first time that she has been able to talk to someone who didn’t need anything more from her than her company. She was impressed, and little did she know, she was in love. The more they talked, the slower they walked. And when they parted company, it was already night. They had talked for 4 hours and not once did either of them look at the time.

“So I’ll see you in school tomorrow?” Cassie quipped.

“Erm, yeah I’ll see you around,” Victor replied uncertainly.

“Hey, you all right? You don’t look right. Is something on your mind?” Cassie asks, concerned.

“No I’m fine,” Victor flashes a smile. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow then,”

When Victor walked home that night, there was a slight lilt in his step. For once, he felt happy. Now it was time for his duty, his responsibility to mankind, his promise to his father. And once again, his heart weighed heavy on him.

As Victor stood on the rooftop of a building, he surveyed what he saw beneath him. “Why am I doing this?” he thought bitterly. He thought about what Luke has been tormenting him everyday, he thought about how his mother was killed by the same people he has to protect. Victor clenches his fist. “Father, why? Why do I have to protect the race which have hunted our race for ages?” Then he thought about Cassie and her beautiful smile. “That makes it easier I guess,” Victor thought to himself as he spied a couple of thieves trying to steal a car. Within a blink of an eye, he was gone.

“Quick Jeff I got a bad feeling about this,” Nick urged his partner who was trying to use a coat hanger to open the car door.

“Look I can only do things this fast all right? So just hold on to your balls and stop irritating me,” Jeff shot back, irritated.

Victor smiles in the darkness. He walks towards them. His footsteps echo clear into the night.

“Who’s that?” Nick whispers, panicky.

“What? I didn’t hear no nothing. Shut up and let me finish,” Jeff replies.

“No seriously, I heard footsteps,” Nick defends himself.

“It must be the marbles rolling around in your head,” Jeff laughed.

“That’s not very nice,” Nick shot back.

When the footsteps rang again, both Jeff and Nick heard them. They turned towards the direction of the footsteps, petrified. Victor appeared from the shadows and whispered softly, “Evening gents, lovely night isn’t it?” In his full superhero garb, Victor was an awesome sight. Black aviator shades like those that you see in the Matrix. He was clad in black entirely finished with black half gloves. He looked as though he was the wrath of the night itself. Victor laughed, his cold laughter pierced the night air, ringing loud and clear. It sent shivers down the two felons’ spines.

Jeff got the locking mechanism open and was about to get into the car when Victor commented, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, not only will they get you for stealing, they’ll get you for destruction of property as well, since I seriously doubt you two have your driving license,” of course, they did not heed any of Victor’s warnings and got into the car, starting it and hitting the accelerator. They braced themselves for the crash but it never happened, for Victor was no where to be seen.

“So where are we going boys?” Victor smiled as he draped his shoulders over the two of them. They fainted. Victor sighed. “I always hate when this happens, it’s so boring,” Victor dragged the two of them out of the car and suddenly he thought about him mother. His fists clenched tighter. He looked at the two felons. He shook his head, “No I can’t hurt them,” he reminded himself and just left them on the floor.

As Victor stood in the lamp light, a voice rang from behind him, appalled. “My god, what have you done?” A figure clothed entirely in white stepped out from the darkness. She wore a white mask across her eyes, as well as a piece of cloth across her mouth. She wore knee high boots and a short miniskirt, making her look amazingly attractive. In her hand she carried a wooden stake, the mark of a slayer.

Victor was caught by surprised. He took one look at her and ran. The slayer gave chase. Many thoughts went through his mind as he made his escape. How did they find out who I was? Who is this person? There have never been slayers in Singapore before. Why now? That wooden stake, that slayer wants to kill me! The more Victor thought, the more confused he became and the more fearful he was. He took a look behind and saw the slayer hot in pursuit. Victor gave one last spurt of speed and the slayer was left far behind.

The slayer stopped the pursuit. She thought to herself, “I don’t know who you are vampire, but if you’re the one who murdered my family, I promise you there’ll be hell to pay,” the slayer walked off into the night, her hands tightly clutching the wooden stake with determination.

By the time the slayer gave up chasing Victor, he was already home lying on the bed with all the questions running through his head. The last word that went through his head before he went to sleep was “why?” He closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful slumber just as a hint of orange appeared far over the horizon.

Victor trudged to school, enduring the verbal abuses that Luke threw at him as he walked past him. Actually he didn’t hear anything at all; he was lost in his own thoughts, too busy to even realize that Cassie was calling him from the far side of the canteen.

“VICTOR! Why didn’t you answer me?” Cassie shouted as she stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“Huh? Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Victor explained with a dejected look in his eye.

“Hey, is anything the matter? Anything you would like to tell me?” Cassie asked, concerned about his welfare.

By this time, many of Victor’s classmates were staring at the both of them wondering how this could be possible. That included Luke, standing at the far side of the canteen, with a facial expression as black as night. Luke could not believe his eyes. He had never imagined that Victor was able to best him with Cassie. “He stole Cassie from me,” Luke thought. “He won’t get away with this,”

Victor started to notice that half the canteen was staring at them. “It’s nothing, really,” Victor mumbled as he brushed past her, leaving her stranded. Victor turned his back on her, and walked away. Cassie was confused and upset, but she was determined to get to the bottom of this. Luke watched the events unfold getting angrier and angrier by the second. He turned away and stormed off, muttering under his breath that Victor will pay.

Victor slowly walked up the stairs to his tutorial class and settled himself down in his usual place. He took out his books nonchalantly and started to immerse himself in the world of chemistry, not realizing that there were 2 pairs of eyes fixated on him. One filled with anger, the other filled with sorrow.

The bell rang, and like clockwork, Mr. Loke walked into class, his usual cheery self and announced that today there would be an OBT, much to the disappointment of the class. Victor just pretended nothing has happened and did the OBT without skipping a beat, finishing it in less than 5 minutes. However, it was not the OBT he was thinking about, but what happened last night.

“Am I really that hateful?” Victor questioned himself. “Do people really want me dead?” “Stupid human beings, no matter what I do for them, they’ll never accept me, I’m destined to be an outcast, destined to be hated by all. Why father, why do you help these human beings that you know killed mother?” Victor brooded. “Am I really worth what Cassie sees me as?” “No, I’m a monster; people should stay away from monsters.”

As these questions swam through Victor’s head, little did he know that the absolute opposite of these questions swam through Cassie’s. While the class was absolutely absorbed in their OBT, there were three individuals who were thinking of something totally irrelevant. The bell rang, Victor walked up to the teacher’s desk with his head bowed low and placed a single sheet of paper on his desk, after that he grabbed his bag and left without a word. Mr. Loke looked at him, confused about what brought about that sudden change in personality. “He may be unusually quiet in class, but he looks as though the weight of the world lies on his shoulders today,” Mr. Loke thought to himself.

Victor walked down to the canteen and sat alone, his head in his hands. Not too long later, Cassie sits down in front of him. They’re both silent for a while, then Cassie breaks the silence.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Cassie asks, almost close to tears.

Victor doesn’t reply, he just sits there, quiet and brooding.

“I don’t think I can be your friend Cassie,” Victor says quietly. “I’m sorry,” Victor takes his bag and stands up about to leave.

“Wait! Victor!” Cassie calls after him tears already flowing from her eyes. “Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Victor just walks off, without looking back at Cassie. He walks past Luke who saw the entire thing. Luke stares at Victor with hatred in his eyes swearing to himself that he’ll make Victor pay for what he did to Cassie. “But right now, I think Cassie’s more important,” Luke thinks to himself. He walks over to where Cassie is sitting and sits in front of her.

“Hey…” Luke whispers tenderly.

“I’m fine,” Cassie replies, sobbing slightly.

“I know,” Luke says, handing her a piece of tissue.

Cassie looks up and smiles, she thanks Luke for the tissue and apologizes to him for the way she looks and wipes her tears away, rearranges the smile on her face again and walks off into the crowd.

“What a girl,” Luke thinks, and smiles to himself. “Not like all those chicks that fall head over heels over me with no backbone,” Luke runs his hands through his hair, “And I hate it when girls cry, especially when I’m helpless to do anything about it.” He suddenly thinks about Victor. “I don’t know what he did that made Cassie cry, but I can be sure that he’ll pay for it,”

Victor was in the library studying when he looked at his watch. 5 pm it told him. “Time to go, I guess” Victor thought to himself. He packed up his books and walked out of the library. He didn’t notice Luke nearby doing the same.

Victor was walking through a secluded corridor when someone tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned to look who it was, a punch flew out of no where and caught him on the cheek. He fell to the ground in a heap clutching his cheek. He looked up and saw Luke towering over him, hatred in his eyes.

“That’s for making Cassie cry!” Luke shouted at him, spitting out every word. “You jerk! Whatever did she do to you?” Luke grabbed Victor by the collar and raised him up. “Answer me!”

Victor just raised his head calmly and looked straight into Luke’s eyes. “You would never understand,”

“Why you arrogant geek!” Luke shouted and threw another punch. This time Victor dodges it and his fist contacts with the wall.

“Argh!” Luke cries out in pain and crumples to the floor. Victor stands over him, wanting to help him up.

“Hey look, I’m sorry…” Victor starts trying to help him up.

“Get away you geek!” Luke shouts as he throws another punch.

This time Victor is prepared, he grabs Luke, but just as he does, he is reminded of his mother, who was killed by the same kind of people who are tormenting him now. His fists clench and in one moment he loses control of himself and throws him against the wall, just as Cassie turns the corner. She sees Luke crashing against the wall, face bloody. She turns to look at who did this and sees Victor standing over him, fist raised. Cassie can’t believe her eyes. She runs over and shouts, “Stop it! Stop it! Get away Victor, I thought you were a nice guy. I was so wrong,”

Victor looks at her with a bewildered expression on his face. He looks at her and sees the hurt and hatred that she has for him and realizes that there is nothing that he is able to say that would change the present situation. He bows his head and leaves.

As Victor walked home that day, he thought to himself, “Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe if I hurt instead of her, she’ll be happy,” “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now. She hates me. I hope she’ll be happy with Luke, he seems to care a lot about her,” As he thought about these issues, his brain assured him that everything would be fine, but his heart just weighed heavier, and heavier on him.

Victor stood at the edge of the rooftop, questioning his identity. Who was he? What was his place in society? If his existence is hated by so many, wouldn’t it be better if he just left? But he remembered the promise to his father and has sworn to honor that promise. He sat down at the edge of the rooftop, brooding. He thought about Cassie and the look that she gave him today. “Sigh, I’ve lost a friend, perhaps the only friend I ever will have. At least we were friends for that time we spent together. To me, that’s more than enough,” Victor sighed. A tear ran down his cheek.

“It’s not fair to sneak up on someone from behind,” Victor said to no one in particular.

A figure in white appears from the shadows. “I wasn’t intending on doing anything, I just came for the night air. You however, ruined everything.” The Slayer spat.

“I apologize for ruining your night. I guess now that I’m here, you would want to kill me. I won’t let you, but I will not fight with you tonight,” Victor states resolutely.

“It’s not your choice!” the Slayer shouts as she rushes up to Victor. Victor parries every blow but never returns a hit.

“Why don’t you fight back?!” The Slayer shouts, emphasizing every syllable with a blow.

“Firstly, I don’t fight girls,” Victor grunts, trying to parry each of the Slayer’s blow. “Secondly, you’re a good guy, I don’t want to hurt you,” and he thought to himself, “we ought to have been killed off ages ago anyway,”

The slayer suddenly stops her attacks. “My family was killed because of your KIND!” the Slayer swings her fist at Victor’s face. Victor just dodges it and has a shocked and guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just a…” the slayer continues when suddenly a piercing scream fills the air. Victor hears the scream and runs towards the railing of the rooftop.

“I’m sorry, I have to go now,” Victor apologizes.

“Don’t try to escape!” the slayer shouts after him and gives chase.

“I’m not, I promise we’ll finish this later, but now I really have to go,” Victor vaults over the railing and disappears. The slayer gives chase and spots Victor defending an old lady against a snatch thief with a knife.

Victor grabbed the thief by the arm and tried to pin him down. The thief fought back and slashed Victor with his knife opening up a deep gash in his arm. Victor yelped in pain and growled. He jumped on the thief and they both went crashing onto the floor. He had the thief in an arm lock when suddenly the image of his mom appeared in his mind. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He didn’t hear the thief crying in pain. Suddenly he remembered his father’s words. He was brought back to reality and immediately released his grip. The thief ran off, cradling his arm in his hand. He was shocked at himself. “I’m sorry…” he told to no one in particular, looking at his hands. “I’m sorry.” He ran off, shocked at what he just did.

The Slayer walked over and returned the bag to the old lady. After that she helped the old lady to the lift. As the slayer was about to walk away, the old lady said to her, “Thank your friend for me, he saved my life. Bless you too, whoever you are.” The slayer stood there, stunned.

The slayer went to the same rooftop she saw Victor. She was right, he was sitting on the rooftop with his head in his hands. “What did you do that for?” the slayer called out.

“I don’t know…I just lost…,” Victor whispered, his thoughts elsewhere.

“I meant when you helped the old lady, that man deserved justice…” the slayer said.

“He may have deserved justice, but i’m no killer…” Victor trailed on.

That was when the slayer snapped. “I don’t believe you!” the Slayer shouted at him. “Do you know what your kind did to me? They killed my family in front of me and made me watch!” the Slayer went on her knees and wept. “I’ll never forgive your kind!”

Victor just slowly backed away and said, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing into the night.

Victor sighs as he gets into bed thinking once again about the pain he’s causing people around him. He asks himself whether whatever he’s doing does pay for the pain his ancestors have caused. “I just want people to be happy around me, to be able to accept me for who I am and not what I am. If that happiness can only be achieved if I wasn’t around, I shouldn’t be around,” sighed Victor. He thinks about the students in NYJC and he thinks to himself, “Sigh, if only they knew that being normal is a privilege I would give anything to have,” he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Once again Victor finds himself in school again. He thinks to himself, everyday I do the same thing day in day out. What am I doing this for? He shakes the feeling out of his head. Suddenly, he spots Cassie hanging out with Luke. He suddenly collapses on the floor clutching his heart. “I didn’t know it would hurt me that much,” he mutters to himself as he tries to catch his breath and picks himself up. He walks up the stairs to class. Little did he know that when he turned his back on them, Cassie looked at him go with sorrow written all over her face and tears welled up in her eyes. She fought back feelings to call him back and just sat quietly in front of Luke.

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s not worth it crying over him,” Luke said softly.

Cassie nods and dried her eyes. “I’m fine,” Cassie said, “he just seemed so different the other day,” she thought to herself.

Luke is silent. Cassie suddenly thought of something.

“Luke?,” Cassie raises her head.

“Yes Cassie?” Luke looks curious.

“Why do you hate Victor so much?” Cassie asks.

Luke falls silent for a while.

“Hey if you don’t want to tell me it’s all right you know, I just want to know why you always treat him so bad,” Cassie says.

“Victor and I go way back. He was in my class in secondary 4. Our school had this program where a person has to excel in sports, project work and academics to be able to qualify for a scholarship to our affiliated school, Hwachong Junior College. I was placed in a group with Victor for the project work segment of my scholarship application. It was terrible. He was unable to communicate with us, he always looked like he didn’t receive enough sleep and he always didn’t finish his allotted parts. Because of that, our group failed the project work segment and I didn’t get the scholarship. When the o level results came out, I was unable to get to Hwachong on my own merit. That’s why I’m in NYJC now. I lost my scholarship because of him.” Luke answered coldly.

Cassie fell silent for a while. “Come on let’s go to class, we’ll be late,” Cassie said as she stood up to walk to class.

Victor was already in class when the two of them arrived, as usual buried in his books. Just as Cassie and Luke stepped into class, Mr. Loke arrived, this time in place of that cheery expression he has on his face, this face is as black as storm clouds.

“What happened to all of you? I may have expected poor results because of the surprise test but this is appalling! Those of you which I expected more from just disappointed me. I’ve got nothing to say. Take back your scripts.” Mr. Loke sighed as he sat down heavily on his chair. “Victor, see me after class,” Mr Loke said curtly as he buried his head in his hands.

“I guess it’s not the first time he has called me up,” Victor sighs. The lesson ended quickly and Victor went to see Mr. Loke after class.

“Care to explain this?” Mr Loke said quietly as he placed Victor’s script on the table. Victor took one look at it and bowed his head. “Your work has been steadily declining Victor, what has been happening to you?” Mr. Loke scolded.

“I was busy…” Victor murmured.

“Busy? What can be more important than school work?” Mr. Loke shouted as he starts to lose his temper.

“Trying to make something out of my life!” Victor shouts back. “All my life, I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Everyday I come to school, get laughed at, get ignored, act like wallpaper and then go back home to an empty house! It’s as though I’m the only one left on this planet! I just want to be accepted. Sometimes I think whether this is how my life ought to be. Sometimes it gets so lonely at home I look forward to coming to this godforsaken school. For when people laugh at me, at least there’ll be laughter around me…” Victor trails off, he places his head between his arms and draws heavy breaths. He didn’t realize that Cassie was standing at the door, looking at him cry in front of Mr. Loke. But all Cassie could do, was cry with him. She never realized the pain that Victor held inside and wanted to kill herself for the way she treated Victor that day. She desperately wanted Victor to forgive her, but she just didn’t know how.

As Victor stood up to go, Mr Loke told him, “Ask yourself this, who are you, what is your purpose here?”

That day, Victor walked in the park before going home. He just wanted to clear his head about certain things. He thought about the question Mr. Loke asked him. “Who am I?” Victor asked himself. Suddenly he heard a scream from the far side of the park. He looked into his bag and cursed, his superhero garb was not in his bag. He ran.

When he reached the scene, he saw Luke lying bloody on the floor and Cassie was being attacked by 4 gangsters. Victor cried, “No!” and rushed to attack them, fangs bared and eyes full of rage. Cassie watched, her eyes full of surprise. “Victor is a vampire?” As Victor was getting slashed up by the knives, he shouted to Cassie, “What are you doing? Take Luke and run!” Victor was bleeding profusely from multiple wounds over his arms. Then, Cassie did something very unexpected. From her bag she pulled out a wooden stake. Victor’s eyes went wide with surprise. Distracted, the gangsters took their chance and plunged their knives deep into Victor’s chest. “No! Victor!” Cassie cried as he fell to the floor. Cassie looked at the gangsters with hatred, “How dare you,” she hissed, her words full of venom. “How dare you do that to my FRIEND!” At the last word, she rushed at them, movements full of grace, but attacks full of fury. She was controlling herself, as she was not meant to kill, but that did not stop her from inflicting the worst pain this gangsters have ever felt in their life. Cassie wasn’t as merciful as Victor in that aspect.

Luke was appalled that the stories his mother told him about vampires were true. Luke summoned up all the courage left in him and dragged himself over to where Victor lay. “Hey man,” Luke said, a little guilty and a whole lot of scared.

“If you’re going to insult me again, please don’t, at least let me have my last moments in peace,” Victor struggled to reply.

“I just want to say, I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never did forgive you for how you lost my scholarship for me, but I guess I was wrong to act like that…” Luke trailed on.

“I lost it on purpose. I knew about your scholarship thing and I knew how the teachers pushed up your marks so you could get good grades. Do you think a geek like me can actually fail something? I did it for you, I knew you would not be able to make it in HCJC, your grades have never been good. Do you want to get kicked out after the first year?” Victor replied. His eyes closed and he went limp.

“VICTOR! VICTOR!” Luke cried as he tried to shake Victor awake. Luke remembered what his mother told him about vampires. He never really thought it was true. But he knew what to do anyway.

Luke took out a pen knife from his bag when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned to look, it was Cassie. She took the pen knife from him as Luke started to protest. Cassie just silenced him and whispered, “I owe him this, for misjudging him,” I’m a slayer, and because of that, I nearly lost a friend. “He must have been thinking about how I have been hunting him all this time and it must have broken his heart to think that someone out there wants him dead, I’m sorry Victor, I really am.”

Luke was silent. Cassie made a slight cut on her wrist and brought it to Victor’s mouth. The blood flowed, drip by drip into Victor’s mouth. After a while, Victor coughed and fluttered his eyes open.

“Cassie,” Victor said weakly. “You’re a slayer, why did you do this? You should have just let me die, after all, I’m a freak of nature. Everybody would look at me with hatred…”

Cassie shakes her head, “No Victor, you’re a friend to me. The best one I have ever known for a very long time. And it doesn’t matter what you are. I just accept you for who you are. And you’re Victor Sefuro Tan. Don’t you ever die on me.”

Victor was stunned. After that he bowed his head down and said, “Yes Cassie,”

Luke put his hand up, “Dude, sorry for all I did this year. You didn’t deserve it. Friends?”

Victor looks apprehensive, Luke continues, “for life?”

Victor looks at Luke and smiles, takes his hand and says, “For life.”

All of them stood up and walked away, each with a different path of fate, each with a different destiny, but all of them entwined, inseparable.

Victor stands on rooftop. “It doesn’t matter who people think I am, I know who I am. I know my purpose in life. I’m to live, mostly to protect those who love me but also those that don’t. I have to respect my father’s wish but I’ve realized why now. View people for who they are and not what they did to you. The people who killed my mom were fearful. My parents never blamed them and I should not as well. Make people happy wherever I go, not whenever I go. People may want me dead. But I would live for those who want me alive, those I have to protect, those in need of protection. What do I want in life? To live, nothing else. Who am I? I’m Victor, VAMPIRE”

A piercing scream fills the air. A voice from behind Victor says, “Let’s rock and roll,” The voice came from Cassie, dressed in her white superhero costume. “Yeah, let’s,” another voice calls out. It was Luke, dressed all black in a sweeping cloak. Victor smiles.

“I’m Victor, vampire,”