1 April 2005
Brace yourself, another D W joke:
D W: Tell me, please. Who do you think I am?
Someone: Some say you are a nice person. Some say you are a pervert. Some say you are a stalker.
D W: Who do you think I am?
Someone: I think you are just an idiot.
I will be meeting some friends tonight for dinner – people who possibly have no privy to events in my life for the past few months. I wonder if I will see shock on their faces when I beg them for a job over dinner tonight. After all, most of them are more successful in running their careers and lives than I am currently.
So, I will have to go there with a cap in hand.
Someone from long ago was at the same event as I. She was there as a guest while I was running all over the shop in helping to get the show going. Although I knew how this was done to polish some people’s collective egos, I did my part, trying to be a responsible adult like everyone else.
I was running across the large room when I first saw her. She was still as slim and without examining her hand, people, especially men, would easily believe that she was still single and very available. People whom I worked with used to tell me of how she seemed to be almost every average male’s perfect partner (not only in bed hor) for life. Some even heaved a sigh for me when they commented at how I should have been given a shot at it if not for the fact that she had her wedding ring plonked on her finger already.
She did not see me the first time round, but when I made my second trip across the crowded room, I turned my head to cast a short glance again and somehow both our gazes met. I could see the telling look on her face and a second later, I observed she turned to a lady (someone whom both of us knew) and began to say something, which due to the distance between us and the collective noise of many small talks being engaged in the crowded room, I could not catch any of her words. However, my instinct told me that she must have been telling the lady about how she could not recognize me because of how obese I had become.
Work beckoned for the rest of the night and tiredness at the end of it denied me the opportunity to pause for a few moments and contemplate on this chance encounter. Now, in the relative silence of my “cell” and with depressive thoughts swirling in my head once again, I noted this down as one of those bitter-sweet moments of my life.
In essence, I feel that I have come so far in my life only to have never felt so low.
Yesterday, I was reading about the story of the man who got the courts to give him permission to end his wife’s life. It caused quite a hue-and-cry in the US in recent months and because of the publicity given to this case, I managed to read both sides of the story, with an open mind (no less).
On one hand, science decreed that the chances of the woman’s recovery from the vegetative state were almost zero and therefore, it would make perfect sense to assume that the woman, or anyone else for that matter, would no longer wish to prolong her life under such circumstances.
On the other hand, the woman’s parents were still confident that a miracle could be possible as long as she had the breath of life and they were desperately trying any and every means to try to reverse those legal decisions.
I read an article, written by the lawyer representing the woman’s parents, of how her condition was as bleak as it seemed and that she seemed to show signs of resolve in wanting to fight her way out of the comatose state. It was a heartbreaking article of how the woman never left her bed for the past five years of her life and how she was denied the opportunity to have sunlight streaming in from the window of the room because allegedly her husband deemed it necessary to pull down the shutters.
However, nothing was as tragic or traumaticising when the lawyer described how, in a moment of folly, she asked the woman if she still wanted to live. The account of how the woman struggled so hard to express her intention was enough to break my heart and here I was talking about ending my life for the past few days.
Once more, life became precious in my eyes, after reading that account yesterday. I told myself that at the very least, I could still express myself almost effortlessly and that the laws of the land had right in making decisions on my behalf, for my life.
But today, when I stepped into the “cell block”, walked to my “cell” and opened the first e-mail, everything dark, gloomy and depressing started to cascade down on me…
Update: The woman has died. Looking at it, I want to believe that she has gone to a better place.
After-note: 1 April 2009
Someone reading that entry casually might have formed certain impressions of the person who wrote it. Or that regular AOT readers would have been perplexed at how things became a downward spiral.
Perhaps Divinity should be thanked for giving us this thing called “hindsight”. Re-visiting this entry shed some light on what could have caused this downward spiral. I thought about how I could have prevented myself from falling and how I could have recovered from the impact.
From this, I came to some conclusions about who I am and what I had become.