nothing could aptly describe. no one can rightly challenge. no soul could seemly defy. welcome to my world. where i make the rules and you stick by them.

About Me

Standing by, All the way. Here to help you through your day. Holding you up, When you are weak, Helping you find what it is you seek. Catching your tears, When you cry. Pulling you through when the tide is high. Absorbing your voice When you talk. Standing by when you learn to walk. Just being there, Through thick and thin, All just to say, you are my friend.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Help me

This is probably not the first time I have been abducted by the aliens. I live to recount my experiences only because they allow me to. Please do not hesitate to think I am crazy. Surely that would have meant I dreamt up the whole episode. Perhaps that would purge the recurring nightmares, the nightmares that just won’t go away. The nightmares that leave me drench in sweat and breathless every time I awoke with a heart pounding with trepidation.
Yet, I know with certainty that I did not dream any of the events up. Reality grips me with a fist tighter than the noose on a hanging man. I know I cannot be schizophrenic, what I have been through are not hallucinations. Just look at the scars they left on me. Not just physical scars, not just the two diagonal snakelike celluloses across my chest, not just the bald patch with an erythematous lump at the back of my skull. The emotional scars hurt as worse.
That night was a peaceful night. At least before it happened. I had felt a tingling sensation throughout the night. The air was humid and nothing happened. Not a dog across a street or a car’s tires skidding on the road. The crickets were mum, the toads hardly croaked. Feeling unusually tired, I retired to bed early.
Then in the darkness, there was a silence so loud that it woke me up. There were no blinding light or hovering spacecraft. No scaly upright lifeforms with proton guns, 3 fingers and gigantic eyes on their necks. It was eerily silent. Still. My back took on a life of its on. Got straight up from the bed.
Then my legs began to obey the command of something beyond me. They placed themselves firmly on the ground. They raised alternatively and made for my cupboard. I screamed. My throat almost burst from the screaming. The noise woke the neighbors up. (something which I found out recently as a police notice made its way to my mailbox) No one came to knock on the door. Either they did not think I was in grave danger(nowadays teenagers do the darnest things. Screaming was not even ranked in the middle) or they thought I was going berserk and would certainly turn on them had they tried to approach me.
The cupboard doors slided open, I was standing just half a meter away. No signs of any clothes in there. Nothing I recognize. Just darkness and emptiness. I thought I saw a darkness of vortex. As suddenly as the doors slided open, I was sucked tummy first into the cupboard.
I landed on cold metal. I must have passed out. As I struggle to open my eyes, I heard voices. Not audible ones. Intelligible but definitely not audible. Not vibrations of air particles but excitation of neurons in my head. Vibrations of my middle ear. It was no way in any language possible on earth. I had known with a certain kind of conviction that no facts could thwart.
The top of my head felt wet. I could barely raise my arms and when I did, I placed them on my head and the touch revealed a gash. Bringing my hands to the front of my eyes, I saw it was wet and red. Dark red. A wave of nauseous swept past me and stopped dead in my throat. I placed my hands on the same spot again. No hair. Just soft and sqaumous. Kind of like brains. The kind your folks bring home from the market. Where was my occipital? As I touched the squishy substances, a wave of euphoria swept past me. Tremors and shakes shook across me. The euphoria turned into excitation and then into uncontrollable hysteric fits. I simply passed out.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

A random thought

What is the world like without love or feelings? Cold. Empty. Humidifying. Tiring. Aching. Who gave me the answers? I did myself. Often in the past, I had wondered if it is possible to lose all my friends. The answer took the form of more than mere words. BUt that of the most despairing feelings. Recently, I had realised the transformation. I was talking more, but making less sense. I was talking too much to people who did not care. Trying to pour out all the bottled up emotions and stress. But the more I tried to let the world know, the more I realised that I am trapped. Trapped by emptiness, by isolation. I often laugh. USing laughter to mask this deep sense of destitute. I guess I am getting infinitely poor.