Speak

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Resisting every stumble; I'm afraid of falling headlong down the unknown spiral.

But it seems a futile battle.

writing at 1:54 PM

Sunday, August 27, 2006

I dislocated my elbow yesterday.

The first thought that came to me was this can't be happening, not to me at least. Everything was so surreal, I remember wondering if it was a dream. I have never, in my entire life of sporting experience, ever had any major accidents. No sprains, no tear, no shock -- a clean record.

I remember falling from midair, remember breaking the fall with my left arm. I remember feeling something dislodge, remember seeing my lower arm dangling at an awkward angle. I remember attempting to adjust it back using my right hand, remember finally collapsing on the baked netball court, incapable of moving, the bright sun shining into my eyes.

My classmates surrounded me, peering, looks of concern, of sympathy, of helplessness. T'was funny how at that point in time, I knew the extent of the damage. I knew I needed the hospital, an ambulance. I just wished they could hurry, 'cause it hurt like hell. It annoyed me a little to know that in the entire school population nobody knew what to do.

I didn't know what I was doing, lying there on the ground. We took class pictures, joked around, laughed, and took more pictures. And all the time, the pain was killing me, eating me up. I tried to hold my breath to alleviate it, tried to think of happy thoughts, but all that flooded my mind was the dinner I was gonna miss.

It seemed like a million years before the paramedics finally arrived. I never felt more relief. I was wrapped up and sent to Alexandra. I talked to the medics, the nurses, the doctors, the radiologists, if only to distract myself from the pain, and keep my sanity. They sedated me with ketamine(to shut me up, probably), and almost immediately, everything started swimming around me, and I was gone.

When I regained a little consciousness, the pain wasn't there anymore, but the world was whirling and I remember slurring about neurones, dendrites and action potentials before I fell asleep again. When I finally woke up, my head was still spinning. My arm was in a cast, but the pain was completely gone.

I wanted to get out of that place, wanted to get back to life. Couldn't be happier to leave, save a little sad I had to leave the new friends I made there.

I guess I have to be thankful it's not my writing arm that was injured. But nevertheless, I just hope it heals fast, heals well.

It's tough to get used to doing things single-handedly. It never occured to me how much my hands cooperate everyday. Now I'm down to one, I have to get used to mono-tasking, of doing things a rate slower. I need a new arm.

Lend a hand, anyone?

writing at 12:10 AM

Thursday, August 10, 2006

I never knew it's possible to walk from Cineleisure all the way back to school in Bukit Timah Road. And if not for the deadly hours, I'd have continued walking all the way home.

Revisiting the past, I realised there are many things I covered up. Just conveniently swept them under the carpet so that I won't have to see them again. Out of sight, out of mind. Effectively squashed and suffocated them, if only to keep them silent.

An entangled mess that gets harder and harder to straighten when left to the devices of time.

writing at 11:59 AM

Sunday, August 06, 2006

It's funny, and scary at the same time, to see the sudden surge in popularity of Jing Xian Library. Overnight, it seemed the hottest and coolest place to hang out after school. Even my favourite place in the whole wide world, the PRC Corner, seemed to be almost always fully occupied.

Quite annoying.

The library should give out membership cards or something for loyal members to enjoy privileges like reserved seats. Or just the authority to oust a non-member out of a spot.

I love the PRC corner. Though a little small, in that tiny cubicle, everything and everyone else is shut out. The outside world can be bombing each other out but in that space, it's just you and yourself. And your books of course. Like a little fort. Some find it claustrophobic, I think it otherwise. There's freedom in privacy.

Living like a recluse.

____________

I saw the look of horror/confusion/shock/dismay on your face. I'm not entirely sure which one is it; maybe a little of everything, but it haunted me for awhile.

writing at 9:30 PM