Death.

This blog is here because as I told Yan Wei I have outgrown a phase in life, and since blogs should be representative of stages in your life, I have thus moved.

The first inkling I got of what was to be the closest I have contemplated death was an abrupt light-headedness, to which I responded by immediately diving into bed and shutting my eyes tightly. All my lights were still on; my unwashed plate of sauce sat on my table like a patient waiting outside a doctor’s clinic; my teeth chafed uncomfortably against my mouth without the minty signal to sleep; my computer, with its various conversations hanging, was the most pertinent obstacle.

I am being melodramatic of course, with regards to the contemplation of death. ‘Closest’ is a relative term– relative to my complete lack of serious thought when it comes to such a subject.

At first ebb of dizziness I hurriedly typed off an abrupt goodbye to all my MSN companions, before locking the door and switching off the lights. Back to my stiff meditative position– back ramrod straight against my bed, eyelids plastered over the pockets of my eyes as if darkness would save me from this landlocked swerving ship. “I am on land I am on land I am on land,” I chanted to my skeptical brain which had already dissociated itself with whatever connections it had with the physical world even as my neck held on desperately to it. Even photographic evidence of my firmly rooted self would not be enough for it at that point of time. Not that I could have opened my eyes to look at it.

For the next two hours I would strive to keep the noodles I just devoured where it belonged– in my stomach. Preferably it should move on to its next step of its journey which I call the fun slide down wonderland, but apparently without the direction of my alcohol-free hangover brain it found itself more inclined towards travelling upwards instead. Which, as everyone knows, is not how you are supposed to enjoy a slide.

Do you know how the world can spin even in complete darkness? I suppose you do, you probably enjoy roller coaster rides a lot more than I do. What I say is, it shouldn’t happen. My philosophy principles say that if a tree falls in a forest without anyone witnessing it it did not happen. Similarly, if I do not witness the world spinning, as evidently I cannot being blind to the world, the world cannot be spinning.

Apparently the laws I follow in life have failed.

Here comes the contemplation of death: a brief melodramatic image of me, dead in my room and undiscovered until… well, until the next night when my parents knock down the door with their bare knuckles in search of their missing daughter.

Now is the time I turn to religion. Yes, I turned to religion. Death has a way of doing that– making you try every method regardless of the approval of your rational mind. Which as I have mentioned thinks it is no longer attached to my body. Which might be why this approval was unnecessary.

Death is a sobering thought.

Although I cannot claim to have gained much progress in terms of thinking about this inert state of non-life, being that my life did not flash past my eyes, I did not think about all the things I still have not done, and the closest thing I thought about relating to life was the imminent CS2100 test and how I would definitely not like missing it. I am, obviously, a pragmatic person not given to fancy flights of imagination. Imagination? What’s that? The place my brain is in? Is that why I feel like I am about to–

And there you have it, the inevitable barf.

I was hoping to avoid cleaning my room floor by holding it in. That was my greatest concern. The next being that damn, am I going to be too hungry to sleep next?

Now that the inevitable has happened, there is a sense of relief. Not just physically, but the relief that comes from the end of worrying and the start of knowing, in this case being “Now I have to mop the floor after it has gone past a month of dust and dirt.”

I sat, spent, beside my piece of art on the floor. I am ashamed to say I did not think of naming the piece of art and taking a photo of it for installation art purposes before I cleaned it up the next day. On a serious note, I missed having people around me terribly. Even if they weren’t with me physically, I missed having a voice to complain to. Weakly, I reached out for my phone and put a call across to my sister. It was 2am in the morning. It rang three times. The dial halted abruptly in the middle.

So much for my comforting voice option one at two am in the morning.

I sent an enigmatic “im seasick” to Hai Wei and spent the next ten minutes trying to stay still in my sitting position, my head lying gently on the surface of the bed. The shakes were still there in the earthquake’s aftermath, but the decreasing intensity of shocks made life better. My head, at least, returned from the realm of the unknown and groaned its way back in. Gradually, I fell asleep with my desk light on, and stayed that way until the first rays of sunshine streamed in at seven.

So, I heard a barf a day makes the fats go away? But what about a barf at night?

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