Voids Fill Up Differently, Students of IACT [great book club books txt] 📗

just be fun for me to see that? The countless number of times I’ve been watching you torture and torment yourself over all the things that you did on your own?”

 

He was holding a knife in his hand and I was holding one in mine as well. Not only that, there was blood. As I looked up, I saw a dead corpse with blood all over, dripping from the corners of its mouth and trickling from its nose. I was frozen and shocked at the sight. My heart was pumping rapidly but I could still feel it freezing up.

 

I woke up.

 

It was just a recurring dream. Since then, I kept having the same dream. I kept having the thoughts of ending my own life running rampant in my mind. It felt like this trauma will never stop, that I was seemingly born and bred only to be mentally abused. But then I remembered my father’s words, the promise that I made.

 

“Value your own life.”

 

How I hated that promise. It felt like a shackle on my very existence that whenever I came close to ending everything, I couldn’t do it. I could never have the courage to pull it through. I’m just truly utterly useless. I could just break the promises like how I used to once upon a time. But I don’t want to break anything anymore. I don’t want to fight back anymore. I don’t want to care anymore.

 

Tears kept falling down my cheeks. I can’t handle this anymore.

 

I can’t continue living,

Yet I can’t bring myself to end it all.

 

………………….

 

Time to stand on the stage and put on your masks.

Dance along with the tragedy and sing along the cries of agony.

Follow the never-ending script that has been laid out for you and YOU alone.

For you are nothing but a puppet and an actor on this stage play.

 

Everything is fine.

 

No, it's not.

 

Everything will get better eventually.

 

And will go right back down to Hell again.

 

Our existence is meaningless.

Brought into the world by one brief moment.

Just to tear ourselves apart and vanish in the end.

 

Breaking down, the stream of tears just wouldn’t stop flowing.

 

“Piece by piece we build up the walls around our heart, thinking we’re safe from the people around us. Hiding and praying that no one would ever find us, remember us. Just let me die in peace.” I cried.

 

“Sacrificing human emotions for the sake of entertainment, for the sake of indulging in the suffering of others. Even if we were to die nothing would matter. One of the billions of people on this planet could easily replace my existence.”

 

“Don’t think that way you said. Your existence surely has its own meaning”

 

But, masks we wear to please others, will one day be exposed. Slowly, but surely.

If what we do to protect ourselves is considered as ‘right’, I would rather stay in the ‘wrong’

 

“END IT, YOU WEAKLING”

 

“SPINELESS COWARD”

 

Time was stagnant. I could feel the curtains closing on me.

So is this it? All it takes is just one quick second.

I’m tired. I’m exhausted. Just done living up to people’s expectations.

Please, don’t back down now.

“Is this it, could this actually be it?”

 

Maybe

 

“No backing up now. Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Just one little push”

 

All they could say is to ‘not think, “don’t feel”, “stop overreacting”

All they could do was talk, but none of them could relate.

 

But I’m just the same, I’m all talk but no action.

 

It was said that people who are depressed, lacks attention.

Perhaps I did?

I don’t even know how it feels like to be appreciated,

So tell me.

Please just tell me.

What does it feel like to be appreciated?

How does it feel like to be paid attention to?

Those were just unnecessary emotions, weren’t they?

So just how could YOU possibly relate to ME?

 

“Exactly.”

 

AN ATTENTION SEEKER? ME? 

WELL IT SEEMS LIKE IT’S YOU GUYS WHO HAD TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO UNDERSTAND.

I’M JUST TOO TIRED OF LIVING TO EVEN LISTEN TO YOU GUYS ANYMORE.

“They will never get it.”

 

In the end, all I could do is to fake my feelings.

 

………………….

 

Music is supposed to be the remedy of the soul.

A comforting factor for those who are weary.

 

But it sounded so bland, no resonation, no emotion, nothing.

Chinese songs, Malay songs, English songs - I’ve heard it all.

In the end, it never helped.

 

Is there anything left that could save me?

Give me the refuge I need from these emotions.

 

 

Save me from this cruel world and the harsh reality of existing.

Provide me comfort in this seemingly empty heart of mine.

 

Religion never gave me much hope,

All it gave me was just doubts and unanswered questions.

A reason for my anger to only grow towards the Creator and the world.

A reason to hate my existence even more.

 

Putting on the final act itself,

Stumbling across the stage which I thought was my last one ever,

And that was when I found something that intrigued me,

 

The Japanese culture.

 

Their way of living captured my curiosity.

The way they appreciated all the things that are around them was intriguing to me.

The Japanese animations that sparked my interest,

Their music.

For some reason, it gave me a reason to hold on.

Even if it’s just a little bit more.

Just ... a little.

 

I wonder, why?

 

Their appreciation of the nature that is around them.

 

Their practice of kintsugi,

In which they repair broken pottery by filling the cracks with gold,

Showing people with pride in its history,

Not hiding any of its flaws or imperfection.

These were one of the few things that intrigued me.

 

I never really had any interest of my own.

I was always told to follow the crowd.

Nothing ever interests me but this.

Animation has sparked something within me.

I was attached to animating itself and I immediately knew,

it was something that I wanted to do.

 

The music that I listened to seemingly resonated with my feelings.

It was all relating to life,

How we were all brought to life without a proper reason,

The terrible life of living up to society’s expectation,

Feelings that were given to us that were temporary,

Anger, sadness, happiness, everything.

 

It’s as if I could take off my mask for even a little bit.

The bit of comfort that I wanted.

 

The passion that ignited within me towards their language,

It was unlike all the others that I have learnt until now.

Difficult as it may be, it never stopped me in my tracks.

 

 

For the first time in my life, I have a sense of purpose in life — a goal.

 

A life that felt lost where I felt so cold in, had just gained a tiny flame.

It felt soothing.

But I just don’t know where this is going. If having this hope will even benefit me.

 

My reason to live continue slowly grew because of the spark of hope and curiosity that was lit up inside my heart. A tinge of warmth, as if I had started to find a reason to be.

 

A year has passed by since I committed myself into the cultural ways of the Japanese.

 

I closed my eyes, seeing him one last time.

 

“So that’s how it goes, even after what had happened, you STILL want to live on?”

 

“It’s just that I may have found my purpose. Even if I can’t get rid of my guilt, I have to move on nonetheless.”

 

“What about me then? You can’t get rid of me and you know that.”

 

“I don’t have to.”

 

“But didn’t you say that you hated me?”

 

“Perhaps. But I have reasons not to now. And it’s time for me to go.”

 

“...”

 

I opened my eyes again, staring out into the clear blue sky through the window.

 

“This is it…”

The words that came out from my mouth.

 

“Good for you”

 

Perhaps this would be the last time I ever hear from him,

We will never know.

 

1.3 An Act Of Love

An Act Of Love

Bethany Chuah, Bryan Choo, Gwyneth Lim, Aparna Menon

 

In a split second, Evelyn’s world burned into ash and blew into oblivion. The deafening silence and numbness of her emotions made her feel trapped in a corpse. Life felt as though she was dragging dead bodies along a street of sticky, hot, black tar. She needed to be a hero to survive this, but sadly a lost one currently. Evelyn's mind was overflowing with questions. What did she do to make him do that? He was supposed to be the love of her life till the end of time. He was the one. She couldn’t answer and she definitely couldn’t deny that it hurt. Confused and hopeless. "Was he that sick of me?" She started to worry about her 6-year-old son, Kayden’s, future. A bunch of questions appeared in her mind. Loud questions clouded her along with anxiety. "Hints were everywhere. How did I not see them…". The synchronization of harmonies and melodies was great between them but Evelyn was too blinded to realise that it slowly faded over the years. Their conversations became shorter and more brief. She felt like she lost everything. Love, loyalty, time, youth and life. 

 

It’s raining, the raindrops on the old rooftop making a stress-releasing sound. The trees are dancing with the pure strength of the wind, being a protective shelter for the birds. Evelyn always loved the rain. “Pak!” The auto gate opens slowly and shakily, Evelyn drives into the car porch. “Pak!” The door closes itself. She walks out from the car, tired and sleepy, carrying her backpack full of documents. Kayden climbs out from the car as well, with his tiny backpack and walks towards the main door. “Beep. Beep,” the car locks with just a click. The silence and blankness of the living room feel like a haunted house, thick layers of dust covered the shelves as Evelyn and her husband, Mike worked so hard. Evelyn works as a secretary in a publishing company while Mike is an accountant. The old and shabby kitchen and refrigerator are probably full of expired goods. Floors are dusty, furniture is old-fashioned, curtains are faded. It’s an old double-story house located in the city of Kuala Lumpur. “Kayden! Go PomPom first,” she tiredly calls out to her 6-years-old son. The stairs made of mahogany wood made squeaking noises whenever anyone stepped on them. He runs upstairs and goes into the bathroom excitedly. A warm bath would be perfect for the rainy day. Evelyn was exhausted after handling mountains of her boss’s schedule and calls, she needs a whole week’s of sleep. Evelyn knew her little rascal of a son would take forever to shower as he loves blowing bubbles, so she leaves him be. She knew she taught him well to get ready before bed. Kayden dries himself with a clean towel after his playtime in the shower and digs through the unfolded pile of clothes for his favourite blue power rangers pyjamas and puts them on.

 

 Dirty clothes are piling up in the basket. As she moves and puts all the clothes into the washing machine, a photo strip that looks like it was taken in a photobooth accidentally dropped out from her husband’s slacks. She froze. It was four joined photos of Mike and another woman, smiling and kissing.

 

 She looked younger, prettier, excitement and life in her eyes. Everything feels so abrupt like a bomb threat. Evelyn’s heart dropped to her feet, shattering into a million pieces. She doesn’t seem to pick the photo strip up or even believe it. Anger, confusion, sadness, and disappointment rushed into her entire being. Everything feels so complicated. She needs to talk to him face-to-face.

 

Still in