Yeah? You know what? I don't like you any more.

(No not you, ILU D:)

Hi guys.
I just want to let you know, I can feel myself slipping into that mode again where I want to just ignore everyone.
You know, the one where I just want to be alone with myself, not talk to everyone. The one where I cut off all modes of conversation - phone, msn, etc.
This also includes not wanting to go out and barracading myself at home.

You know it if you know me.


Yeah, that mood.






....so, sorry in advance.
I'll tell you when it passes.

I have no motivation to do anything at all.
I don't want to do my assignments because I have no desire to get good grades.
I know my school work is going in a downward spiral but I don't care.


I'm not depressed.
I just see no meaning in the things we do everyday.
Everything seems superficial.


It is 3am. My mother says she's not going to let me not go to school today.
I'm not going to school today.


FOAD.

Man... it is both fun and frustrating to type with the Wii.

I think if I type anymore I will spontaneously combust.

No kidding.

Sung to the tune of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse.
Dedicated to certain people I know.


Oh baby dont you know I suffer?
Oh baby can you hear me groan?
You're acting under false pretences
How long before you let me go?

You make me so annoyed
You make me so annoyed

(You make me so annoyed)
Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the supermassive

(You make me so annoyed)
Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the supermassive

You think you're so full of yourself
No doubting that you're a fool
You're the king of the superficial
And how long before you tell the truth

You make me so annoyed
You make me so annoyed

(You make me so annoyed)
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive

(You set my soul alight)
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the 'supermassive'

Supermassive ego
Supermassive ego
Supermassive ego

Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the supermassive

Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the 'supermassive'

(You make me so annoyed)
Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the supermassive

(You make me so annoyed)
Patience melting, losing state of mind
The more you are sucked into the 'supermassive'

Supermassive ego
Supermassive ego
Supermassive ego

I guess that pretty much cancels out any readership I had. Ah, well.

Most everybody's blog posts are about what goes on in life.
My posts... don't.
I should make up for it.
I rant!

~

rantrantBORNrantrantCRYrantrantFEEDrantBURPrantPOOPrantDIAPERrantrantrantrant
KINDERGARDENrantGRADUATIONrantPRIMARYONErantPRIMARYTWOrantPRIMARY...

...

...SECONDARYFOURrantrantrantOLEVELSrantrantrantGRADUATIONrantrantrantBLACKHOLESANDREVELATIONS
rantrantFRIENDSHIPENDED(noregrets.)rantrantrantPAErantNYJCrantrantrantORIENTATIONrant
rantrantTERRORISTBIOLOGISTrantrantrantMUSECONCERTrantrantOMGMUSECONCERTrantrantrant
MUSEMUSErantMUSErantrantNOAUTOGRAPHrantrantrantSCHOOLLIFErantrant...

~

The most obvious symptom among children suffering from depression is becoming less active. They rarely enjoy video games they used to like, soon tire of reading comics, refuse to do anything and spend long periods lying down, says the Daily Yomiuri. Kodama believes it is because they lack the energy to be active, and not because of a lack of interest. He points out that such children often show physical symptoms, such as exhaustion, waking up too early and diminished appetite. "If a child shows these symptoms not only on weekdays, but also on holidays," says Kodama, "it is likely that he or she is suffering from depression."


...oh crap.

A collaboration between a friend and me. Idea's hers, I did the actual writing.



The Sweetest Moment

He hadn’t wanted to tell me, at first. Who would? It is not exactly the easiest thing in the world, telling your best friend about your impending death.

~

Dom had always been the outgoing one in our relationship. It was him who disappeared for days on end, often staggering into the house in the wee hours of the morning, hopelessly drunk. He could afford to. As a model, his working hours were flexible, where being fashionably late was a valid excuse.

Me? I was simply the hapless male that followed him around, cleaning up the mess he left behind. I was the one who stopped him from getting into fights. A friend.

It was the way he’d abruptly put an end to his social life – no more late nights out, nor breakfast at three in the afternoon – that caught me. His cell phone was permanently switched off, and he’d plugged out the telephone line. His agent couldn’t contact him - his work had effectively ceased. He spent the day sprawled out around the house, flipping aimlessly through his vast collection of modeling magazines. Some days I could go out in the morning, only to come back hours later and find him in the same position, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

Then he started locking himself in the bathroom for hours on end, claiming I was invading 'his space'. I could hear him through the door, seemingly rambling to himself. I had wanted to talk to him, but never really got around to it, thinking he was simply in one of his moods again. At least, until the time…

He hadn’t gone in more than five minutes. I was standing outside, as I had taken to doing, straining my ears to make some sense of his monologue. That day, it didn’t seem to be as filled with fury and aggression as it had been the times before. Instead, it sounded sadder, mournful even. Then it was covered by the squeak of a tap, the sound of running water. I didn't think much of it at first; assuming that he was just going to take a bath, perhaps calm himself down, hopefully even snap out of it at last. However, even after what felt like an eternity, the gush of water did not stop. Of course, I got worried. I knocked tentatively on the door, afraid of inciting a serious outburst from him. No response. In a soft voice, I called out to him, "Dom, are you alright?"

Again, there was no response. I tried again, louder this time. My tension mounted, and I pounded on the door, shouting his name. Every passing second without a reply from him was agonizing, until I could take it no longer and attempted to force the door open. I threw my body weight against the door. Thankfully, the lock on the bathroom door had been defective for ages – I’d just never got around to fixing it – and it succumbed easily, granting me access to the room.

Nothing could have prepared me for what was inside.

The room was filled with the faint metallic odour of blood. The source of the running water was the bath tap, continuously releasing water into an already overflowing bathtub. Dom was lying in the tub, his head resting on the white porcelain. His eyes were closed, with a look of serene calm on his face. He would have looked as though he was simply slumbering, if not for the utter paleness of his lips, or the unnatural blue hue starting to tinge his cheeks.

His bare body was submerged beneath the surface of the water, which was tainted a pale red. His arms hung limp from his shoulders, his hands barely in contact with the bottom of the tub. From a long cut on his left wrist a thin snake of red streamed out.

What followed that discovery of mine, I could not really remember. All I can recall is a huge flurry of events – screaming into my cell phone, paramedics rushing into the house, life being forced back into Dom…

Was it wrong of me? It was his life, after all. His to live, his choice to end. Perhaps I had been selfish – but I could not comprehend life without him.

~

It was a few days later – Dom had been released from the hospital ‘under close supervision’. His expression had been fixed to a permanent scowl ever since.

We had just endured a painfully awkward silence – I had forced him to sit down and refused to let him go, not until he talked.

"Well?” I asked, eventually. I had a million questions in my mind to ask him, if he would only talk.

"Well what?" He looked and sounded utterly nonchalant, the way he was draped over the seat, as though nothing at all had happened in the past few days. I shifted on the sofa, narrowing the distance between the two of us to a mere few inches.

"You know what I mean," I stated, emphasizing each word. My gaze never left him. He did try to keep his cool, but I could sense his frustration. It was the way he grit his teeth, how he tightly clenched his fists, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. I narrowed my eyes. “Dom…”

Finally, he broke. A low growl of frustration escaped his lips, before he erupted, and all was revealed.

"Argh! I don't know why this has to be happening to me! I have some… some sort of disease, I don’t even know what it’s called! My body just cramps up sometimes, and I can’t move, and… and…” Dom stopped at this point, letting out an anguished howl of frustration before throwing himself back into his seat, curling up into a fetal position.

It later turned out that he had contracted multiple sclerosis. It was a vicious disease, affecting the brain and the spinal cord. The attacks cause the victim to be temporarily paralyzed, unable to coordinate his movements, sometimes not even able to control his bladder. The worst part was that there was no hint that an attack was impending – When it hit, it hit hard.

Multiple sclerosis doesn’t kill, not until the very last stages, but the victim will be unable to control his movements by then, finding even the simplest action hard – will it really matter anymore if he is alive or dead at that point?

I couldn’t even imagine how he must have felt. When he came down with something small, like flu, Dom flatly refused to take his medication. He didn’t believe in putting ‘unnatural things’ in his body, preferring instead to let nature take its course. But now, to stave off attacks, he would have to take an endless array of pills, in addition to treatments in the hospital. There was no visible end to this torturous cycle, save for a miracle.

"I'm scared, I really am. What am I going to do?" he whispered in a voice highly unlike his own. Soft sobs rocked his body. Trying my best to retain my composure, I gently stroked his back, reassuring him that everything would be all right, everything would be just fine. He believed it about as much as I did.

We spent that night on the sofa, crying.

~

Perhaps he had a weak system, unable to fight the virus. Or perhaps he simply found no purpose in his life. His sole passion had been modeling, walking down the runway in the latest fashion, basking in the light of cameras held in the hands of avid reporters. Now… yes, perhaps he simply found it simpler to stop living.

It had been a bright, sunny Saturday morning, perhaps two months after he’d been diagnosed. We were in a little café by the beach, enjoying breakfast. Mine was light, just French toast with a smattering of butter by the side. Dom had ordered the exact opposite – bacon and sausages and eggs, drowning in oil. This was on the pretext, he said, that this could very well be his last meal, and besides, his figure hardly mattered anymore, did it?

We had been discussing about the name of the exact shade of red of the tablecloth – he said it was crimson, me maroon - when it happened. Dom abruptly tensed up, then slumped, falling off his chair onto the sand. This had never happened before. He’d been paralyzed pretty badly, once, but fainting? Never. Somehow, I managed to keep my calm for just long enough to dial the hospital – on speed-dial now – and tell them our location.

The doctor had been terribly pessimistic. He said that Dom was entering an advanced stage of multiple sclerosis, and had fallen into a coma, one from which he was unlikely to awake. Perhaps it was just as well…

I was sitting at his bedside as soon as the nurse let me. Dom was lying on the clean white hospital bed, an oxygen mask obscuring half his face. His life monitor was beside me, shrilly beeping his health condition. It was stable, for now, at least. Five or so tubes fed into his arms, narrowly avoiding the stitched scar on his wrist.

I took his left hand in both of mine. It felt cold already – he was, after all, sustained by drugs and machines. I wondered how he would have felt if he knew… That it was not his heart pumping the blood through his body, but a machine… that chemicals coursed through his veins, attempting to stimulate life once again.

The life support machine by his bed hummed rhythmetically in beat, as if mocking his weakness. Dom had been so serious ever since he found out, no longer the happy-go-lucky person he had been. I’d seen him the way he forced his pills down, the way he suffered at every treatment. I’d seen him stare at the scar on his wrist more than once, too. Perhaps it was just better this way…

I let my finger rest on the small switch situated on the underside of the humming machine, just for a moment, before lightly flicking it up, paying no heed to the label below that read, in large letters, 'DO NOT TOUCH'.

“I found these in your room... how long have you been keeping them?” This said while smiling at the two velvet boxes I held, one in each palm. They opened to reveal a pair of silver rings, each near identical to the other save for one small detail – the names etched on the underside.

I stroked Dom’s lifeless hand for a moment before slipping the ring onto his fourth finger, similar to the one I had already worn on my own. Laughing slightly to myself, I gently adjusted the corners of his mouth into a smile. “Goodbye, Dom…”

The beeping on his life monitor started to increase in rapidity as I gazed down on the serene expression on his face.

“And till Death do us part…”





It just charges on and on and on, doesn't it? Ah, well. Planning was never my forte.

...crazy?
I was crazy once.
They sent me to a home.

I died there.

The worms came.
Worms? I hate worms!
They drive me crazy!

...crazy?
I was crazy once..

Everything you say is right, because you say so.

Everything I do is wrong, because you say so.





You're just waiting for something to happen so that you can say "I told you so".
Everybody is.










What a bloody fucked up world we live in.