The Human Paradox.

Some weighty issues on my mind. Probably the end-result of too much booze and no outlet haha. I've just sat through this nasty dispute between 2 of my flatmates.

I knew the inevitable conclusion was gonna be ugly, and yet I couldn't bring myself to interject at any point in the argument. I wanted to, but I refrained because I thought it'd hurt the sensitivities of one of the guys. Which meant allowing the argument to play out to its nasty conclusion. It was quite a ridiculous argument really, but that's beside the point maybe. Is it that in order not to fracture my relationship with my housemate, I allowed the two of them instead to ruin theirs? Isn't that really self-serving of me? Was it a lack of moral courage that kept me from speaking up? I have no idea, but I just feel a little awful because I could see exactly where their conversation was going, yet did nothing at all. Bah.

Then as I was taking a bath (to rid myself of my stinky-booze-ridden-stench of course) I was just thinking how I hope my parents are doing perfectly well without me back home. That my absence doesn't bother them one bit, and that they are as happy as before. Another part of me though, hopes that my presence back home does in fact affect them, if only to reaffirm myself of my own important role in the family. It would be nice to know that you're a vital cog in the happy running of the household. And I'm thinking: So what do I really want? And I don't think there's an answer to that. Who's to say if your selfish nature or your selfless aspirations is the stronger?

It's the same with ex-lovers (or Almost Lovers, thank you A Fine Frenzy for a more than fine song) I would imagine. You wish they'd move on, and leave the unhappiness behind, and at the same time wish they don't move on, cause you hope that you were that important to them. If that makes any sense at all. In fact, in a vindictive way you probably have this faint (hopefully; instead of intense and raging) desire that that other person is suffering without you. Or maybe that's just me hahaha. A very vengeful person is me!

Okay that's about all I have to say, I just thought I wanted to note down some of the thoughts I had on these 2 very human situations/experiences/thoughts/whatever/I/don't/know/how/to/label/this/properly, just because. I doubt animals go through such nonsense really. Humans suck. But being human.. doesn't. The Piling up of Paradoxes (paradoxi maybe, sounds way k00l3r.)

I also had a brief discussion with my flatmate on the benefits of globalisation. He's a geographer, go figure. I'd never really thought about it fully, but I think that on a personal level I like it, cause I have the opportunity to travel most anywhere in the world, watch movies from around the globe, listen to music from all corners of the earth, etc etc. But in the grander scheme of things, I think globalisation has made people less happy.

I wouldn't go so far as to say it's made people unhappy, but I have this stubborn belief that people were happier in the past. Something about the simplicity of their lives maybe? Then he asked me if it was because people now have more options than they used to, and after some thought, I said that yeah I reckon so. To which he replied that that's pretty much Marxism! Hahaha who knew I was a closet commy! I should be Chuan De Bolshevik.

Okay now that really is all, it's awfully late and I have a game tomorrow which I might or might not play in, but I've got to prep myself anyhow. Morning all.

But Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away.

If my head were a microcosm of the universe, my hair would be (a) black hole(s) (I have no idea how many it would be.) It's collapsing under its own weight. It used to be Hong Kong (think: hilly, gradients.) but now its Singapore (think: flat.) It's disturbingly pangsai-looking. Hahaha.

I've not had such long hair since sec 2 I think, nor such flatness. Like an LCD screen. I don't know how to handle it anymore, nor my conflicting emotions about it. Cut it or no?! Oh well. Sheer dogged persistence will see me through this trichologic crisis. Maybe I will emerge looking like one of the pretty J/K-pop boys sans the pretty. One always dreams.

I finished book 3 of 1Q84 last night. Massive. Can't wait to get home to my treasure trove of Murakami books! I liked the idea that it's taking us all this time for us to learn just how lonely we are, so that we can truly appreciate it when we're not.

In a rare fit of sociability (probably not sociableness, although it seems to fit better) I just spend hours chatting with my housemates. First it was a quite serious discussion with the master's student about euthanasia, which brings about with it a whole host of problems like right to life, definition of life, definition of death, abortion, Nazism, societal and cultural norms, stuff like that. Pretty heavy stuff, but I think we're both too firmly entrenched in our own camps haha.

Then we moved on to much more fun stuff like how playing with poo is normative behaviour, and it descended from there, so you can imagine it was utter nonsense. The best part was that winter in Finland next year seems to be quite a likely scenario! Reindeer, ice, snow, cottages, dogsledding. What in the world?! These are things that are almost beyond the realm of possibility, right on the fringes maybe, the very margins of likelihood. Crazy stuff man.

I watched Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy on sunday. Good acting, very atmospheric and intense, but I couldn't really understand what was going on. Seems like a second viewing is in order, or I should purchase the book. I think I'd like to know the entire backstory of Smiley and Control and co.

Okay that was all, brief interlude.

Q: How Do You Fight The Loneliness?

A: It varies from person to person, really. Some people find refuge in books, some in movies. Others still seek solace in the darkness of clubs; the frenzy of dancing. Some throw themselves at their work, some at the harsh mercies of alcohol. Some claim that certain permutations of the above work exceptionally well, alcohol and clubbing, or books and movies, or any other you might care to choose.

I find the secret lies in crying. There is nothing more cathartic, nothing purer than tears. There is nothing like crying to reconcile ourselves with the fact that we are awfully frighteningly alone. That the solitude is very real. Once you know that, it doesn't affect you any longer, not really. Then you can move on.



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When I get to the city
My tears will all be dry
My eyes will look so pretty
No one's gonna know I cried

Hello all! I just had these random thoughts about how to answer more properly Wilco's How To Fight The Loneliness cause I don't agree with "Just smile all the time." I think if you do that then even your smile loses all meaning and what can be sadder than a person who's lost all meaning in his/her smile? It's very much a fictional answer so don't go away thinking that I weep like a babe newborn. Not that I'm ever likely to reveal that plz. Hehe. I think I suit the enigma look.

Then I heard those lines from Dum Dum Girl's Baby Don't Go, which I thought was such a nice addition since I'm gonna go all weepy creepy.

I just came back from watching Hugo in 3D and it is marvellous. I had no idea what to expect other than Martin Scorcese doing an animated film, an absolute shocker to be sure. Then I saw Chloe Grace Moretz, Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen, Christopher Lee, and The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. It is just stunning, and I think the extra 2.60 I paid for the 3D was well worth it. It's hard to find something so heartfelt and sincere in this cynical world anymore. And Scorcese's love for the movie industry is quite plain as well. Definitely a must watch, I should think.

I think I'm gonna have to share what my sister said to me a while back, cause I thought it was absolutely hilarious. She said: I came out here to discover myself and I discovered I am boring. Or something like that. Hahahaha. That's such a ridiculous statement. Anyhow I am glad that she finally got her butt out of her house and out of Melbourne and into Greater Australia, or at least Sydney, which is a start!

The best (maybe only) way to find yourself is to lose yourself, and you cannot accomplish that by any more satisfying means than travel. Strike out in a random direction and work things out. Get misled by lousy maps and misdirected by hapless strangers. It's a great way to really know a place/city as well, but that's secondary to your having loads of fun and many exciting adventures tramping about town. Who cares if you've seen the seedy underbelly or all the touristy sites of a place if you've thoroughly enjoyed yourself!

At least that's what I'm telling myself as I plan my Christmas getaway. It doesn't matter if I miss out this awesome city or beautiful town or wtv as long as I had a whale (hopefully sperm. as in sperm whale, not as in as long as I had a sperm. because sperm whales are big. huge.) of a time.

I'm just thinking how I miss my old playlist, the one which had Belle and Sebastian, Camera Obscura and Imogen Heap/Frou Frou in it. I think they go particularly well together. Like if I'm in a minimalistic (maybe even nihilistic) kind of mood I'd listen to The xx, Portishead, Young Marble Giants sorta stuff. Then there's the rock-out-with-your-socks-out type with RHCP, Jimmy Eat World, Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser Chiefs. And the indie-pop/rock Death Cab, Eisley, The Shins, The Rifles, TNAF kinda stuff. And so many more. Life is only barely bearable with the existence of music really.

It's such a happy occasion when you get to list out your favourite stuff (bands/music/books/smells/people/feelings/memories) cause you feel so awesome after that. Like mmm that's quite a long list, I am awesome! Any resemblance to Barney Stinson purely coincidental. I shall start watching HIMYM THE AWESOME soon. Hehehe! It's going to be LEGEN- (and I hope you like milk) -DAIRY!!!!!!

When We Leave Can We Leave Goodbyes Behind?

I'm currently listening to most delectable song ever, by Karen O. Damn sick. Click here to listen. Then click the right-facing arrow (AKA the play button) to begin falling in love. I love it when random clicking around on the internet leads you to gems like this, although I know I very well shouldn't be doing any random clicking around at all. Discipline fail.

Just wanted to share how mind-blowing Melancholia is. I think it is quite possibly the weirdest show I have ever seen. Rarely do you end a show and go: What......???? Wow. I don't even possess the words to describe the movie. It had some stunning cinematography, it was a beautiful movie that's for sure. But anything other than that.. I don't know man. Watching Kirsten Dunst makes me wanna watch The Virgin Suicides again though.

And I watched Never Let Me Go as well. I thought the school scenes were inadequate but the second half was really good. Especially that scene with Tommy outside the car, even though I knew it was coming. But that was moving. I didn't like Keira Knightley much though, her face seemed to be twisted half the time and it just looked so wrong to me :/

I just watched Wall Street to prep myself for Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps cause I'm trying to watch all the films with Carey Mulligan in it hehe. I'm considering re-watching An Education as well. In case I was unfairly distracted the first time hehe.

I'm probably gonna watch Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy on Sunday at the brilliant Campus Cinema. Oh no more random clickings just led me to the news that Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel are gonna get divorced. Whyyyyyyyyne. I thought it'd be one of those perfect marriages of awesome people, much like Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss. Depressing stuff haha.

I had occasion to think about it recently (my friend was talking about some study he had to research about) and I was just wondering: am I a narcissist? (Weird question to be asking oneself really) And I'm not sure really. Haha. But maybe you could argue that blogging, or writing stories, is a manifestation of that narcissism. Oh whatever haha.

I don't think I'll be posting any of my stories anymore. Maybe it's taking a leaf out of Tommy's book (in Never Let Me Go) and building up a collection in case I ever need to apply for a deferral haha oh wtv. But it's just.. I don't know what I'm doing with them anyway. What I'm seeking to gain out of them. Praise? Approval? Unlikely. They don't matter to anyone else other than me, so I should probably not inflict them upon others haha. If I could write something like the 6th Burrough (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, one of my favourite short stories of all time) though it'd be a whole different ball game!

When I was a young wee boy I used to wonder whether I could be a writer, seemed like a pretty cushy job to me! Seaside residence, drink in one hand typewriter in the other. The only homework involved being reading books. What a dream job! Haha. Now if I think about it though, I don't think I could ever be a writer. Talent notwithstanding, it's the idea of publishing a book and exposing yourself and letting the whole world critique it. What if you think it was the most amazing piece of work you could have done but the reviews say "pretty average" or "absolute tosh" or something? I think your self-esteem would be smashed really, and you'd never ever write ever again! Maybe that's why people have pen-names so at least they wouldn't ruin their whole lives haha.

No big loss anywayz. Anyway I'm listening to the Canadian duo Tegan and Sara (yeah it's not just Nickelback and Avril Lavigne from the Great White North! There's Robin Sherbatsky as well. So there.) and I thought this line was quite nice "Maybe you could have been something I was good at." or something like that.

All we ever wanted was everything.
All we ever got was cold.

Heard a cover by MGMT of Bauhaus' All We Ever Wanted Was Everything. Amazing lines eh? And here's a little mystery, cause everyone loves mysteries. 156, 405, 505. What do these numbers have in common??? They are awesome songs, by Mew, Death Cab and Ze Arctic Monkeys respectively. Why are numbered songs so amazing?! A mystery indeed.

Apparently I have to learn french if I am to be spoken to at all in France. Apparently they ignore pure-english speakers cause they hate the country I'm in. Uh oh. I can't hardly do chinese even......... Bonjour! Oui! 什么?!?!?! Yeah. That's how I project my conversations to go :(

Okay I think that's all for today! Au revoir (the actual pronunciation of it stunned me for a short while.) Same with salut. I can imagine great difficulties lie ahead. :(

And So It Is, The Shorter Story.

I woke up today singing those words in my head. And then I slept. When I woke up again this song was still playing in my mind. So the first thing I did upon leaving the warm sanctuary that is my bed was to go on youtube and listen to The Blower's Daughter. Simply amazing. I have no idea why or how this happened though, I haven't heard the song since watching Closer, which has got to be many many months ago now.

Maybe it was reading When We Were Orphans by Kazuo Ishiguro. Something about the understated emotions perhaps. Maybe not as good as Never Let Me Go, but life invariably sucks if you go around comparing stuff all the time, so let's not do that. It was nonetheless quite a good read. Japanese fiction writers are da best. I snapped up 1Q84 as soon as I saw it in the bookstore, and it ably accompanied me to Portsmouth and back :D

I'd slept only about an hour prior to leaving on the train (no thanks to an ill-conceived idea to start reading 1Q84 that very night) and barely slept on the train(s) for fear that I'd miss my stops. Mini-catnaps (kittenaps™ probably. so clever it deserves a trademark.) When I arrived I was like, meh, where is my hostel, where is the venue, I am so lostzomg. And wandered around aimlessly, thinking, this sux. Until I decided to eat breakfast. The wonders of a hot meal can never be overstated. Instantly rejuvenated, I struck out with vim and vigour and verve (the traditional v and v just doesn't cut it, I had something extra.) So travelling tip #1, always satisfy your poor tummy before making a judgment on wherever it is you are!

I must say I was expecting something of a dump, prior to actually going there. Maybe something to do with Portsmouth FC's prowess (or lack thereof), which I certainly realize is not a very good gauge at all of how nice a city should be. But I hadn't really heard anything nice at all about the place. Boy was I pleasantly surprised! Say what you want about cheap thrills, but lowered expectations work magik indeed.

Right on the seaside, historic naval base, home of Charles Dickens, long long strips of beaches, when all I expected was a squalid town of rubbish. Okay maybe not as bad as that. I was chatting with the owner of a bookshop and her friend though, and apparently Portsmouth is quite nasty afterall! Bike theft capital of the world (or so they say) and unfriendly people (which I think is somewhat true, through my limited experience with the locals). Well. Nothing you can't remedy with a tirp to the Rose Gardens!

I was just walking around, largely along the coast, for hours on end, had to be close to 8 hours probably. Along the way there was this girl (which self-respecting narrative would have no romantic figure?) whom I spoke to not at all. She was ambling about too, camera in hand, so I surmised she was a tourist travelling alone as well. I guess sometimes you just want to reach out to people whom you think are like you. People who share the same circumstances, people who'd understand. Well we pretty much walked together (by that I mean within 20m of each other, not that there was any agreement that we were walking together) for almost and hour maybe. And then I decided to walk another route in case she thought I was stalking her or something, I admittedly could have been a little creepy, if she were the mega-paranoid sort. Or maybe it was just because she looked like a character on House that I took special notice of her, haha.

And then I was hovering around the concert venue, scoping out the place a few hours before it was due to start, when I am 80% sure I saw The Naked And Famous walk past me and into the building. At first I was thinking, Asian girl with 3 angmohs? Not a very common sight. A few steps later I suddenly thought: zomg, is that TNAF IN THE FLESH?! I'm pretty sure it was, hehe. Starstruckz.

The opening act opened an hour late, so there was alot of lame sitting on your hands waiting. But I cleverly decided to stand right in front of the speakers, so as soon as the first note was struck I'd wake up 500%. I think they were called Post War Years, and they didn't disappoint, even factoring in the one hour wait. But then ofc we were all waiting for TNAF and when they came out we went WOOooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooo!!!!

I liked that they played the stuff from their EPs like Spies Spies Spies and Birds etc, instead of just everything from Passive Me Aggressive You. But the most awesome parts of the night was definitely shouting out just that, "PASSIVE ME AGGRESSIVE YOU" midway through All Of This, and the amazing Girls Like You. Sick stuff man. I bought a poster and I can't help grinning everything I look at it now (Y).

On the subject of posters, I bought 2 more from a sale in school. One was a map, because you can't have any pride as a mariner if you don't possess at least one, and the other was this amazing poster of the Eiffel Tower.

Nochoicebut2buy.

I thought it'd be the best reminder to start my travel planning/booking ever. I'm sure you agree, no?! I wake up to this picture everyday now, cause it's right by my bed. (Y) Makes waking up that much more bearable.

Anyhow, I thought I should add a bit about all the benches at Portsmouth. Each of them was dedicated to the memory of someone who'd passed away. And they'd have stuff like "This was his favourite spot." or "From Mom, to the many happy hours spent here together." on the little plaques. It was pretty heartbreaking to see, and strangely enough, a little uplifting as well. Sobering and uplifting, a strange a combo as any. Maybe it's something about the things people do to remember a loved one. The ability to mourn and grieve. The human spirit is not as far gone as many people like to think in this modern cynical desensitized world.

That, and reading When We Were Orphans made me realize how I could be so much better to my parents. When they think of me, do they think of the good stuff or does the bad outweigh all that? Have I given them cause to think fondly of me? When they look back, will they say that I have been worth their effort, and their tears? I hope so. But that's not the end of it, there's still time yet to set things right, hopefully an awful lot more time.

Can't wait to come across Remains of the Day. It isn't quite as fun to purchase stuff online, it's so much more awesome to hold the book in your hands in awe and happiness at a random bookshop you stumble into. I bought When We Were Orphans for 1 quid at the secondhand bookshop with the nice owner. I also bought The Princess Bride and Lord of the Flies (which I can't quite imagine how I have never read before.) I wanted to buy Battle Royale but the only copy the shop had was in a bad state.

So I'm gonna watch Never Let Me Go at long last, cause after watching Drive last week and reading Ishiguro this, I would really be letting myself down if I didn't watch it.

Anyway I have resolved to start working extra hard, on account of all the $$$$ I have spent over the past week. I didn't think I'd spend so much travelling, stupidly forgetting that when I was away I'd have to eat out every meal which really isn't cheap at all. And posters don't come free either. And books. I know I'm doing things in the wrongest way possible, most people indulge in retail therapy only upon the completion of schoolwork, while I chose to reward myself before doing anything at all! Can't be a very good plan, seeing as I haven't done anything of note since returning from Portsmouth hehe. And we all know how new year resolutions work out, or at least how mine do. They don't.

Okay, on that depressing note I end.

It's Not Make-Believe If You Believe.

Hi guys. I'm heading down to portsmouth in the wee hours of the morning tmr and I am quite excited!! The Naked And Famous rox my sox. I think I have to start revising their songs now! :D So I really should get to sleep early, but I think I might start on 1Q84 now. New Murakami book + TNAF, bezt dayz of my lifez.

Hehe I know TMI (too much information) but I am srsly letting rip some MASSIVE farts!! (Who can resist reminiscing the Beyblade "Let it rip!!!" series.) Must be that chicken tikka masala I made just now. Shocking stuff ey?! It wasn't all that difficult, since I bought the sauce all readymade, just had to prepare the chicken and tomatoes and onions (you get my drift, the drift of all the noxious smelly gas particles) which considering I'd never diced a chicken thigh before last week, is still quite the achievement!

And I had pan-fried mushrooms on bagel for lunch. Such posh-ness has got to be unnatural.. My flatmate took me out grocery shopping on saturday, hence all this amazing sounding food. I even made fish and chips one night. Never thought I'd ever feel so empowered in my life. Don't need a wife no more!! Hehe kidding.

I finished reading Inheritance, the last of the Eragon series yesterday. When I started it I was quite appalled at the style of writing, that bit recapping the going-ons of the previous books. Made me really conscious of the fact that he'd started writing the books at like 15 or sth (I cringed). But thankfully it got better after that and it was quite a good read after all. I really really want to read Robert Jordan again though! Too bad I left them all back home sigh.

I watched Drive the other night and throughout the movie I was just thinking: Carey Mulligan! I couldn't help myself really, which is probably the definition of obsession. Ryan Gosling was good as well though. It was a good movie, probably worth another watch some other time, although not at all what I expected of it. Shall watch Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy as well, but maybe I should go read the book first before I do. It's John le Carre after all.

Okay I shall stop here so that I can start reading my book and hopefully drift of to sleep early so I can wake at 5am zomgosh. Can you whisper? Run, whirlwind run. Passive me, aggressive you!

The Day They Took Our Hearts Away.

When I was a child I used to fall asleep against my father’s chest, the regular, rhythmic beat of what I thought was his heart lulling me to sleep. I thought it the most comforting sound in the whole world, and I would sleep soundly, knowing that I was safe and snug and secure. Now I’m terrified by the memory of that sound. It makes me sick.

The ceremony was to be performed tomorrow, and I was one of the five who would be subjected to it. They say it is to celebrate our coming-of-age, but I know better. I know what goes on in the House. Every year the girls and boys who’d seen 18 summers would enter that House and emerge as men and women, finally being part of the System.

The System ran everything around here. It created an ideal world. The System knew everything about everyone in it, and what it did was match stuff together. The men and women who were the most compatible were allocated to each other, producing maximum happiness and minimum domestic violence. Jobs were assigned to the people who were best suited to them, resulting in great efficiency and productivity. Those who were neither compatible nor capable were sent to sleep.

This was the fate for those disabled in accidents, or pets who had grown too old. Or those who had fallen too gravely ill, be it persons or pets. These were solutions to the mistakes of the past. In school we listened in horror as our teachers told us stories of how infectious diseases wiped out thousands upon thousands of people. This was mind-boggling stuff; we couldn’t grasp the concept of thousands of people living in close enough proximity to die of each other’s sicknesses, let alone allowing those infected to walk freely amongst them.

Our teachers told us about the enormous drain on resources old and disabled people represented. They told us what to do when (assuming we were lucky enough to be spared by disease and disability) our fiftieth summer came: enter the door at the back of the House and sleep. They liked to say that you only entered the House twice: Once at your “birth” (into adulthood that was) and once at your death. They sounded both like deaths to me.

“Jean, we can’t do this. We have to run away from this place!” Jean was the best and only friend I had. We had grown up and somehow managed to stick together despite our different backgrounds. My parents were doctors while her family ran the store. The System generally frowns upon people from different classes mingling with each other, but since we were merely children we were allowed to get away with it.

“I don’t know Henry. Where would we go? What would we do? We can’t just leave everything and everyone behind like that...” One day we had been out in the fields when we decided to take a break, and just lay down on the grass. I was busy trying to make out the shapes in the clouds when she put her head on my chest. I was startled and my mouth had suddenly turned curiously dry and my heart started thumping much too loudly, I was sure. I decided to keep silent and perfectly still, just in case the slightest movement would dislodge her. I became very conscious of my breathing and prayed I wouldn’t hyperventilate. I didn’t want to give myself away.

“Well… I don’t know. Away. That’s all that matters. Who is this ‘everyone ‘ you’re talking about anyway? Your family? What we have between us is… different, are you just gonna give it up like that?” After a few moments, she lifted her head with a quizzical look on her face. Oh damn it, I thought, I screwed up, I knew I would. Then she said “Your heartbeat, it’s different. It isn’t the same as my parents’.”

“What do you mean different? You always say that. I don’t know what you mean when you say that.” So I had to put my head on her chest, to determine if it was just me. It wasn’t. I cast my mind back to the memories of my father’s heartbeat. And then I knew. His had been too regular, its rhythm lacked humanity. It was mechanical.

“I… I don’t know.” When we were very young, we had this one day where we were to show our form teacher our appreciation for her. We were very excited about it and had made elaborate preparations for it. As the end of class approached, the cake was wheeled out and we leapt out of our seats and shouted “We love you Miss Fritz!” She recoiled as if struck a blow. She gaped for a bit and then decided anger was probably the best response. “Never say that word again. Never.” And there she stood, in her murderous rage while maintaining the stoniest of silences, until the bell rang.

“You don’t know? Hah. I don’t know what I was expecting of you, but it was definitely better than that. For all your grand notions you’re surprisingly empty. You’re just another scared kid.” We didn’t talk about it afterwards. We never did. All of us were so deeply shamed by the episode that it had become as much of a taboo as the word itself. It had scared and scarred us and we would never forget the lesson we learnt that day. And no matter how inadequate the words remaining in our vocabularies seemed we never could bring ourselves to say it again. It is funny how one forbidden word can create such a gaping hole in our ability to describe what we feel.

“Don’t do this, please. I’m scared, you’re scared. We’re all scared. But at least we have each other. We can face our fears together, everything will be alright. You have to trust me. I’ll see you by the fields at four in the morning. Don’t worry, okay?” She didn’t answer. I made my way home. The reality of my leaving this place forever didn’t set in until I started packing. It is weird to consider which of your possessions are necessary for survival. Necessary means one thing when you’re at home and your only worries are either about school or girls. It takes on a whole new meaning when you’re wondering how to survive the next few days, and more, out on your own where the things we hold dear, like money or fancy clothes, are worth nothing.

I was wracked with doubts all night. Would we be able to last more than a few days? Could we have a life outside of the place we had called home all our lives? Would we be happier than if we stayed? Would she be there?

I struggled to stay awake. It’s always the times when you desperately want not to sleep that it sneaks up on you and takes hold of you just like that. You’re asleep without even knowing it. So I paced around in the dark, making sure I was deadly quiet while doing so. I double and triple checked the contents of my bag. I looked around me to ensure I wouldn’t leave anything essential behind. In the throes of a restless night like this, it is a comfort to know that the relentless march of time never stops, no matter how slow it might seem to be creeping along. It’s still ticking away, draw strength from that.

And then it was time to leave. The night air seemed to have a sharp taste in my mouth. The glow of the streetlamps seemed to have an otherworldly tinge to it. There was a sort of desperate clarity to everything, as if my brain were highlighting what I was leaving behind in a last-ditch attempt to stop me.

“Henry.” My heart soared, the last flight it would ever take, though I didn’t know it yet. “I can’t do it. I can’t forsake everything I’ve got here to go on this wild adventure with you. This is ridiculous, it’s madness.” I think I had always known what her answer would be, although her appearance here, now, had given me something that was almost hope.

“Hah. And you called me scared? Look at you. Terrified of the unknown. Clinging on to the familiar just because that’s all you’ve ever known. You’re gonna let them rip your heart out just because you’re afraid. You... you’re just like the rest of them. You make me sick.” I turned away from her and stared into the field and tried to hold back my tears. I didn’t know how to be angry and cry at the same time.

“Let them rip my heart out? No, Henry, that’s what you just did.” And she walked away. I still didn’t turn around. I wanted very badly not to care, but I did. I wanted to turn around and chase after her and tell her not to go and that I wish we could be back on that field and feel her head resting against me again. I wanted to shout “I love you” at her departing figure but even then, even right at the end, I couldn’t.

I stood there, shaking in my futile anger. Anger at myself, at Jean, at the whole damned System. It felt like there was a lump at the back of my throat and it was like there was something with clammy hands holding my heart in its grip.

I swallowed to clear the constriction in my throat. I took a step forward. I stopped. I couldn’t do it. Not alone. I turned around and I started walking. To the House.

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Okay that took me 2 whole long sittings to finish. I always wanted to write about people having their hearts removed so that they would no longer be able to love. I didn't know what form it'd take and I certainly didn't expect it to be like this, but I am quite happy with it! I started that first bit of dialogue today and by some magic inspiration decided to go with a sort of flashback kind of sequence, and I thought that worked out pretty well.

I think it's quite obvious the difference in styles from the first half and the second, the first bit looks pretty boring actually haha. If I had tried to finish it the first time around I'm sure it would have ended up alot worse than this. I'd have tried to squeeze in various explanations here and there, and it would probably have been mostly ill-fitting. This way, I got to dabble with a few other themes as well, which I like to do.

There's that little bit about class and social inequality. The System would never have allowed them to stay together. The liquid nature of necessity. The way our fear of the unknown makes us accept the mundane. The contrarian nature of sleep (hehe). How people say painful words they sometimes don't even mean, but never retract them nonetheless. How our fears stop us from saying the most important things. In the story it was fear of the System, in the form of the teacher. In real life it may be the fear of rejection, or maybe non-reciprocity.

I quite enjoyed writing this really. Especially the flashback bits where I tried to fit the memories with what was actually being said, like a jigsaw puzzle. A pleasing sort of symmetry, if only to me!

I don't know if Henry goes back to the House to go through with the operation or if he enters the back door to die. The best thing (I think) would have been for him to still runaway but I didn't think that was at all likely. The next best thing then would be for him to actually die rather than accept the operation, cause that's the worst death of all. A life dictated by a computer system. A life without passions or love.

The whole story is actually heavily inspired by a series called "The Tripods". The original idea about heart removal was my own but the setting and the coming-of-age ceremony etc. was pretty much stolen from the series. The names Henry, Fritz, and Jean(-Paul in the Tripods) are a tribute to the books. It's an amazing children/young persons series and I remember almost crying while reading the last scene with Henry hehe. That's why he gets to be the protagonist.

That episode with the teacher, however, I think has its roots in Never Let Me Go. Something about the oppressive environment of the school or sth.

One thing I regret with the story is that the House isn't quite as ominous as I wanted it to be. It's supposed to have a very dark feel and exert its influence a bit more, so that that last line would be much more effective. Oh wells. But I don't know how I'm supposed to do it and I'm not keen on reworking that whole first half just because I think it sucks compared to the second. If this was a movie then it could be this omnipresent feature in the background or sth eh? Can't word-ify that without being painfully obvious about it though, it has to be a subtle thing..

Anyhow. All in all a satisfactory literary experience for me, I hope it was that to you as well. Pretty long too, running into 4 pages of my Word document, my word! The word count trumps that of my essay by more than 2x (1635 vs 682) wts, so I reckon I need to be ALOT more hardworking doing my schoolwork hehe.

Time for a short nap (at 8.30 in the morning, yes) before dreaded school later. I think my body is very confused when I sleep any earlier than 1 or 2 in the morning, and thinks I'm just taking a nap instead. Slept at 9.30 and woke up at 2.30 sigh. Which means I've been awake for 6 hours and so a faux/pseudo-midday nap is definitely justified!

I'd ask for some feedback (cause I haven't felt quite so good about a story in a while) but I'm a little reluctant as well (cause I haven't felt quite so good about a story in a while, so what would that signify if I received negative ones!) so... wtv I'm off to sleep now!