Your time on earth
is not the complete story
of your life.
*
The truth is,
compared to eternity,
a lifetime
is as brief as a sneeze!
It is as short as
a paragraph of preface
to a continually expanding set of
encyclopedia.
Since the time I learned about this,
that
I'm just a passer by of
this blue and green globe of waters and earth
where I'll experience at max a 100 years
of adventure,
I actually enjoy
growing older.
Not that I wish to exit Earth ASAP,
because there's so much to do
which I can only do when I'm here.
I embrace living and growing.
I begin to approach life
with
an extraordinary confidence.
Extraordinary,
because Valerie was terrified
of the day the clock stops ticking.
I removed batteries of clocks that tick audibly.
I hated the sound of ticking because
every tick
was a second closer to death.
I used to wrestle with reason -
why bother running
this painful marathon
which I get
uglier, wrinklier and more useless
every step forward, and
at the moment I cross the finishing line
I gasp my last breath and
flop dead on the ground
with probably a choir of loved ones
mourning over my death, well,
for a few days, and afterwhich,
the world continues spinning
and forgets Valerie existed?
why bother
studying my eyes out -
fight like a Spartan through 19 years of examinations
[I had my first home tutor at 3
followed by a large tribe of those I drove quite nuts]
Why bother
braving through
horrific primary school days -
I was the epitome of
low self-esteem.
Somehow, the kids believed I was a witch.
Thinking about it now,
it was a blessing in disguise because
I didn't have to queue up for food
at the canteen.
At the sight of me,
the queue of kids would breakup and squeal,
'Oh my god, the witch is here!'
I was so depressed I vomitted
at least six times a week.
At recesses,
the school toilet cubicle was my
sanctuary where I could pour out my fears
in sobs muffled under my hankerchief.
To escape the living hell of a school,
I forged letter after letter.
My heart was so sick,
my physical health deteriorated.
Boarding the school bus
was a mighty feat for me.
'What would I look like when
I get up the bus?
What would the kids think?
How can I hide my inferiority?
If practice makes perfect,
I shall practice.'
I made myself do it.
It's always full dress rehearsal.
Uniform, schoolbag and the water bottle.
Scene 1 Take 1
Invisible bus arrives.
I board.
Posture not good enough.
Scene 1 Take 2
Invisible bus arrives.
I board.
WRONG, VAL.
Get down the bus.
Scene 1 Take 10
And it went on until
I was satisfied -
but hardly was I ever.
Why bother
rehearsing an invisible piano concerto
and dream it'll be reality one day?
Scene 1 Take 1
Play Lyphard Melody.
Missed a note.
Scene 1 Take 2
Play Lyphard Melody.
Missed a beat.
Scene 1 Take 10
Play Lyphard Melody.
WRONG VAL,
WRONG AGAIN!
WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU,
ARE YOU DUMB OR DUMBER?
The piano scores,
crushed and torn.
In secondary school,
when I gained too much confidence -
Why bother
being so hard on yourself
to be the fastest runner
in every Physical Fitness Test,
Why bother
wanting to be the best public speaker
for English lessons
Why bother
trying to make my ex-girlfriends
give me the security and affection
they could never give....
FAST FORWARD.
I was 17 now.
Sitting on my bedroom window,
one leg in,
the other out,
Believing with all my heart,
I told myself,
'Yes Valerie,
you shouldn't bother.
You've been wasting your mother's
hard-earned money these 17 years.
Life is only
going to get worse.
You can stop being a liability.
Quick.
Dispose of yourself,
before tomorrow begins.'
I thought I was
going to do the world a favour
if I would
end my life storybook
at chapter 17.
But now I know,
tough life doesn't mean
a bad book.
There is no bad lifestory.
There is a reason for
every plot and climax.
I'm very glad I didn't
manage to end it
and I don't have to worry
how it'll end
because this book of mine
is now in the best hands.
Six new chapters,
a chapter a year,
have been written since that night
I failed to burn the book.
He is still writing it.
I enjoy discovering day by day,
page by page,
plots and climaxes that
exceed my wildest imaginations.
I've been having happy moments.
I will have happy moments
but I'll never be completely
happy here
because I'm not supposed to be,
because
My time on earth
is not the complete story
of my life.
*
[to be continued]
*
is not the complete story
of your life.
*
The truth is,
compared to eternity,
a lifetime
is as brief as a sneeze!
It is as short as
a paragraph of preface
to a continually expanding set of
encyclopedia.
Since the time I learned about this,
that
I'm just a passer by of
this blue and green globe of waters and earth
where I'll experience at max a 100 years
of adventure,
I actually enjoy
growing older.
Not that I wish to exit Earth ASAP,
because there's so much to do
which I can only do when I'm here.
I embrace living and growing.
I begin to approach life
with
an extraordinary confidence.
Extraordinary,
because Valerie was terrified
of the day the clock stops ticking.
I removed batteries of clocks that tick audibly.
I hated the sound of ticking because
every tick
was a second closer to death.
I used to wrestle with reason -
why bother running
this painful marathon
which I get
uglier, wrinklier and more useless
every step forward, and
at the moment I cross the finishing line
I gasp my last breath and
flop dead on the ground
with probably a choir of loved ones
mourning over my death, well,
for a few days, and afterwhich,
the world continues spinning
and forgets Valerie existed?
why bother
studying my eyes out -
fight like a Spartan through 19 years of examinations
[I had my first home tutor at 3
followed by a large tribe of those I drove quite nuts]
Why bother
braving through
horrific primary school days -
I was the epitome of
low self-esteem.
Somehow, the kids believed I was a witch.
Thinking about it now,
it was a blessing in disguise because
I didn't have to queue up for food
at the canteen.
At the sight of me,
the queue of kids would breakup and squeal,
'Oh my god, the witch is here!'
I was so depressed I vomitted
at least six times a week.
At recesses,
the school toilet cubicle was my
sanctuary where I could pour out my fears
in sobs muffled under my hankerchief.
To escape the living hell of a school,
I forged letter after letter.
My heart was so sick,
my physical health deteriorated.
Boarding the school bus
was a mighty feat for me.
'What would I look like when
I get up the bus?
What would the kids think?
How can I hide my inferiority?
If practice makes perfect,
I shall practice.'
I made myself do it.
It's always full dress rehearsal.
Uniform, schoolbag and the water bottle.
Scene 1 Take 1
Invisible bus arrives.
I board.
Posture not good enough.
Scene 1 Take 2
Invisible bus arrives.
I board.
WRONG, VAL.
Get down the bus.
Scene 1 Take 10
And it went on until
I was satisfied -
but hardly was I ever.
Why bother
rehearsing an invisible piano concerto
and dream it'll be reality one day?
Scene 1 Take 1
Play Lyphard Melody.
Missed a note.
Scene 1 Take 2
Play Lyphard Melody.
Missed a beat.
Scene 1 Take 10
Play Lyphard Melody.
WRONG VAL,
WRONG AGAIN!
WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU,
ARE YOU DUMB OR DUMBER?
The piano scores,
crushed and torn.
In secondary school,
when I gained too much confidence -
Why bother
being so hard on yourself
to be the fastest runner
in every Physical Fitness Test,
Why bother
wanting to be the best public speaker
for English lessons
Why bother
trying to make my ex-girlfriends
give me the security and affection
they could never give....
FAST FORWARD.
I was 17 now.
Sitting on my bedroom window,
one leg in,
the other out,
Believing with all my heart,
I told myself,
'Yes Valerie,
you shouldn't bother.
You've been wasting your mother's
hard-earned money these 17 years.
Life is only
going to get worse.
You can stop being a liability.
Quick.
Dispose of yourself,
before tomorrow begins.'
I thought I was
going to do the world a favour
if I would
end my life storybook
at chapter 17.
But now I know,
tough life doesn't mean
a bad book.
There is no bad lifestory.
There is a reason for
every plot and climax.
I'm very glad I didn't
manage to end it
and I don't have to worry
how it'll end
because this book of mine
is now in the best hands.
Six new chapters,
a chapter a year,
have been written since that night
I failed to burn the book.
He is still writing it.
I enjoy discovering day by day,
page by page,
plots and climaxes that
exceed my wildest imaginations.
I've been having happy moments.
I will have happy moments
but I'll never be completely
happy here
because I'm not supposed to be,
because
My time on earth
is not the complete story
of my life.
*
[to be continued]
*
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