Get ready...
*sad melody starts...*
*mellow*
*mellow..*
*melancholy...*
When I was much younger my mum held me in her hands once while standing on a chair. We were at the edge of the 10th floor corridor of my flat in Teck Whye, and my mum asked me if I wanted to join her to drop down. She had a terrible dispute with my dad and wanted to give up. That time my reply was yes, looking at the flat hard ground below, to follow my mum I made myself fearless, I was ready, and I was clear of my decision to end absolutely and be together with my mum in the next world to be in. But the suicide never happened, lest you'll miss the newell in the blog posts you're reading from this very web page. I don't know what got over my mum, but she chose to step down from the chair then. (Coward? probably. But I wasn't.) Ever since then, the image of suicide and the face of death have been with me all the way until today.
Just the other night; just like any ordinary night, darkness, of the schooling term of glorious Temasek Design School, I was really wondering how it'll be like if I really died, as I was suppose to. That uncontrollable curosity to see the underneath of an object went to the extent of occassional imagining the obsoletism of my earthly aliveness, hence the life in the strongly believed second a-world, oh... it's somewhere in between the suspicious hues and specks of paint on a masterpiece; yes it's the universe, somewhere hidden among the colourful benign clouds and jewel-sparkling stars...lies my solitary planet and home. This picture is so seductive. And my curosity is tempting my guts to triumph terminating life, I.
6:25 AM 
