Leslie Cheung's incident happened to flash across my mind and i came to the conclusion that it takes greater courage to take the plunge than to stay and face the music. Come to think of it (or not), I run away a lot. I know all about the complexity of running away, the emotions involved. Is it just a coward that runs away? You answer me. The story doesn't end after you escape. You carry with you guilt, longing and a painful, dull pain in your heart, knowing that in days to come, you will probably be forgetten as people come and go. Sometimes, it is the one who runs away that bears the eternal twinge...not the people she left behind.

I had been sick for the past 2 days after lunch at Swan Valley. I retched and puked so hard that i knocked out soon after that, only to wake up with a stinging throat caused by the acid reflux. I was running a high fever and if not for the fact that i was in Aussie (and i didn't have the sniffles), i would have thought i caught the SARS virus. Just that afternoon, i napped and was caught in that same nighmare, the kind that superstitious people attributed to the devil or spirits suffocating you as you sleep...the kind that your eyes are wide-open yet you just can't physically get out of bed. I thought i was screaming for dad and mum. I could hear them talking outside my room, yet my efforts were all futile. I remembered myself crawling around my bed, feebly doing the sign of the cross and crying out for God. I probably said my prayers a million times. I'm not even sure how long it all lasted but i finally woke up, eyes wide wide open with a palpitating heart. I hate it when i get "dreams" like that. Scientific research has shown that such happenings occur when you're worn out and exhausted. I hope so then. I wouldn't like to think that there are other alternatives.

Mum said something about an incident that traumatised her before, which still brings fear to her till today. Does anyone feel that way too? There are bad things which i never want to remember or be reminded of...ever again. But somehow, some memories just refuse to let go of you. They haunt and taunt you in every way possible, so bad that you turn psychotic and do psycho things in order to stop the bad feelings from hurting you again. No one understands except yourself. No one understands how hard you try, yet the more you do, the more the memories stab you again and again. I think it's a lie when people tell you "Time heals every wound". Maybe the fact remains that with time, your wounds only get deeper and deeper, while people around you still choose to delude themselves in the fantasy that time heals everything. With time, a greater disparity occurs between you and the bystanders. With time, you feel more isolated as the hurt never dulls away while people still continue asking you why and what happened. You know what happened as well as i do. You all know the story better than i do.

Just the other day, we euthanased our pig and came to a common conclusion that it was an added benefit that vets have access to such drugs. If the occasion arises, we can simply stick a needle into ourselves without the hassle of jumping down 12 storeys. You just sleep, become comatose and finally die. That is definitely easier and less disfiguring than other suicidal acts. Didn't Leslie Cheung have a doctor/vet friend/fan? (Considering the fact that he was so vain before he passed on, he might have been murdered.) Okay i'm talking rubbish.

+ you are my universe.