I've been reading my updates and wow, they're all about my feelings, aren't they? I'm always talking about how i feel about this and that. Actually, i'm getting kind of tired seeing me having nothing else to talk about other than my feelings. If they were positive feelings, i don't think i'd have much of a problem with it, but they aren't. And i doubt that it's healthy to be talking so much about wanting to hang myself. I might find myself drowning in self-pity on a daily basis, but that doesn't mean i like it. I don't, not one bit.
Do you have any idea how pathetic it is to be always having problems with yourself? Always tearing up because oh, i'm not good enough, i'm not worthy of this, i'm not worthy of that. People always tell me, "Try harder" and i'm like yeah, okay i will but in the end, i don't. I don't think i've tried harder to make things better. Actually, i don't think i've tried at all. I don't know how to make myself want to try. All in all, i lack self-motivation. I lack those qualities needed to pull myself up from the shit that i've drowned myself in.
Okay, so here i am talking about my emotions again. Haha, i think it's inevitable to have a blog and not talk about your feelings. It's just something natural to do, you know? I don't even know what direction this post is getting to, so i should probably just stop. I guess i just wanted to talk, and having no one in the flesh to do that with, there's only you, ol, blogger left. Sometimes i wish you could talk back to me, or give me some sort of reaction, anything at all. Wow, guess i really am sort of lonely huh? Ciao.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Dying On The Operation Table
Okay, so i wasn't exactly dying on the operation table, but i would be lying if i said i wanted to make it out of surgery alive, because i don't, i really don't. Long story short about the surgery i underwent, there was a lot of wrong that was going on with my face so my family decided to take action and brought me to a skin specialist to figure things out and one thing led to another. Before i know it, i was sitting on a bed in the hospital ward wearing nothing but those big, blue, hospital gowns you see from movies, waiting for my turn to enter the operating theater to be, well, operated. At first i thought that this was going to be a small operation, just to get rid of the virus thingie growing on my face but apparently, things were more critical than i pegged them to be. So yeah, i spent the Friday before school started, reading a novel on the hospital bed, in the company of my mother, who wasn't very happy with me because of the cost of the operation. I don't blame her, i'm the one with all the wrong things in life, and she's just trying to fix it up a little for my sake. What are mothers for huh?
Anyways, my mom said something to me as i was lying on the roller bed, about to be pushed into the room where the operations took place. "So this is as far as i go", she had said and i smiled at that, because this scene was interestingly familiar, i mean all of us had at least watched a soap opera or movie where someone has to be sent into operation right? So yeah, that exact scene was playing in front of me, and i was one of the main characters. Actually, i was the main character, the one being pushed into the operating room as he or she lied helplessly and alone on the roller bed, bidding farewell to family or friends at the door of the operating room. Before the doors closed completely and i lose complete view of my mother, i heard her say, "Say a little prayer to God", though it was kind of a whisper, i heard it and wow, you had no idea how much irony radiated from that. Why? Because when people say that, they usually mean oh, pray to God that everything goes well and that you'll be safe and sound when the operation's over. And if it had been the old me from two or three years back lying on the roller bed, i would indeed pray to God for my well-being. I would, i really would.
Um, but i'm not the old me. I'm not that happy-go-lucky preteen from two years ago. I'm not her anymore, though i really wished i was. So, instead of actually praying to God that i'd make it out alive, i kind of scoffed(?) at what my mother had said, because honestly, i could feel it, somewhere deep within me, that i knew i didn't want to make it out alive, although this was a very minor operation and there wasn't much at risk, but still, there's always a possibility for things to go wrong, and it was highly unfortunate for me as i was holding on to that one in a million chance for the surgery to go downhill. I remembered thinking to myself as i laid wide awake on the bed in the operating room, waiting to be put onto the operating table that i was secretly hoping, wishing that i would somehow overdose and die, or get an allergic reaction from the meds and just pass on. I'm aware of how horrible this sounds but it's not like anyone but me reads these anyways, so i'm pretty comfortable with sharing my deepest thoughts on here.
So yes, i wanted to be dying on the operation table, but obviously, i didn't. I got knocked out by the whatever gas they made me inhale when they put me on the operation table and i don't remember anything else from the operation other than the pain in my left arm when the injected something into the tube that was already connected to my vein and then i counted "1,2,3...", but before i could reach "4", i was already under. Totally, and utterly, under. It was weird though it didn't feel any different from sleeping, but there's just something in you being forced to go under and you knowing you're forced to go under that just gives you that strange feeling. That's my theory, at least.
So, here i am, alive and well, with these wounds all over my face. It's still bandaged up, my face, with all the dressing materials but i can see some of the wounds and they resemble chicken pox, which i never got but i assumed it would look like this. The doctor said he had removed well over a hundred of those weird, unnatural cells and viral growth on my face, so basically my whole face is covered up with red dots now. And they're itchy as hell. God, what i'd give to rip my face off right now. Scratch that, what i'd give to rip my heart out of my chest right now. Yes, the surgery hasn't changed me. I still want to stop my lungs from functioning. I still want my red blood cells to stop forming oxyhaemoglobin. I still, want to die.
Things with school, things with family, things with friend(s), things with my face. They're too much. And i can't help but feel so small whenever i think about it. I can't wait to go back to school and face all the embarrassment i deserve, yeah, definitely cannot wait for that. I can't wait to get out of my house and let everyone see how wrong my face is. I can't wait to face the world that i have lost my rightful place in. I can't wait to break down again. I can't do it now because i can't wet the bandages and my wounds, so yeah, strictly no crying allowed. Haha, i'm trying. Not to cry. I'm trying. To die. Without hurting. The people i love. In my life.
There are so many things in life that has gone wrong for me and i'm not sure if i have what it takes to try and pull it together to fix them. I don't think, i'm strong enough. I don't think i deserve enough to live my life. I don't think i can, go on.
They always say, "When there's a will, there's a way." For me, i have lost my will, and i have lost my way. I have lost everything that mattered to me. Everything.
I wish i had died on the operation table. Why didn't i die on the operation table.
Anyways, my mom said something to me as i was lying on the roller bed, about to be pushed into the room where the operations took place. "So this is as far as i go", she had said and i smiled at that, because this scene was interestingly familiar, i mean all of us had at least watched a soap opera or movie where someone has to be sent into operation right? So yeah, that exact scene was playing in front of me, and i was one of the main characters. Actually, i was the main character, the one being pushed into the operating room as he or she lied helplessly and alone on the roller bed, bidding farewell to family or friends at the door of the operating room. Before the doors closed completely and i lose complete view of my mother, i heard her say, "Say a little prayer to God", though it was kind of a whisper, i heard it and wow, you had no idea how much irony radiated from that. Why? Because when people say that, they usually mean oh, pray to God that everything goes well and that you'll be safe and sound when the operation's over. And if it had been the old me from two or three years back lying on the roller bed, i would indeed pray to God for my well-being. I would, i really would.
Um, but i'm not the old me. I'm not that happy-go-lucky preteen from two years ago. I'm not her anymore, though i really wished i was. So, instead of actually praying to God that i'd make it out alive, i kind of scoffed(?) at what my mother had said, because honestly, i could feel it, somewhere deep within me, that i knew i didn't want to make it out alive, although this was a very minor operation and there wasn't much at risk, but still, there's always a possibility for things to go wrong, and it was highly unfortunate for me as i was holding on to that one in a million chance for the surgery to go downhill. I remembered thinking to myself as i laid wide awake on the bed in the operating room, waiting to be put onto the operating table that i was secretly hoping, wishing that i would somehow overdose and die, or get an allergic reaction from the meds and just pass on. I'm aware of how horrible this sounds but it's not like anyone but me reads these anyways, so i'm pretty comfortable with sharing my deepest thoughts on here.
So yes, i wanted to be dying on the operation table, but obviously, i didn't. I got knocked out by the whatever gas they made me inhale when they put me on the operation table and i don't remember anything else from the operation other than the pain in my left arm when the injected something into the tube that was already connected to my vein and then i counted "1,2,3...", but before i could reach "4", i was already under. Totally, and utterly, under. It was weird though it didn't feel any different from sleeping, but there's just something in you being forced to go under and you knowing you're forced to go under that just gives you that strange feeling. That's my theory, at least.
So, here i am, alive and well, with these wounds all over my face. It's still bandaged up, my face, with all the dressing materials but i can see some of the wounds and they resemble chicken pox, which i never got but i assumed it would look like this. The doctor said he had removed well over a hundred of those weird, unnatural cells and viral growth on my face, so basically my whole face is covered up with red dots now. And they're itchy as hell. God, what i'd give to rip my face off right now. Scratch that, what i'd give to rip my heart out of my chest right now. Yes, the surgery hasn't changed me. I still want to stop my lungs from functioning. I still want my red blood cells to stop forming oxyhaemoglobin. I still, want to die.
Things with school, things with family, things with friend(s), things with my face. They're too much. And i can't help but feel so small whenever i think about it. I can't wait to go back to school and face all the embarrassment i deserve, yeah, definitely cannot wait for that. I can't wait to get out of my house and let everyone see how wrong my face is. I can't wait to face the world that i have lost my rightful place in. I can't wait to break down again. I can't do it now because i can't wet the bandages and my wounds, so yeah, strictly no crying allowed. Haha, i'm trying. Not to cry. I'm trying. To die. Without hurting. The people i love. In my life.
There are so many things in life that has gone wrong for me and i'm not sure if i have what it takes to try and pull it together to fix them. I don't think, i'm strong enough. I don't think i deserve enough to live my life. I don't think i can, go on.
They always say, "When there's a will, there's a way." For me, i have lost my will, and i have lost my way. I have lost everything that mattered to me. Everything.
I wish i had died on the operation table. Why didn't i die on the operation table.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
I'm Alone
What happens when your dad abandons you for a new life? What happens when your mother is more focused on making life good for you than actually caring about you? What happens when your grandmother, the only real motherly figure in your life, turns her back on you because you disappoint and piss her off every time you look her in the eyes? What happens when you managed to only have one actual friend whom you can talk to but annoy the shit out of her every time you start up a conversation? What happens when you realize something titanic about yourself, but have no one to talk about it with? What happens when you realize that, you're actually all alone in this world?
I've got a great family. I wouldn't call us completely dysfunctional, but i think we're doing pretty well. Okay, scratch that, they're doing pretty well. We got more than enough food and water on the dining table, we usually get whatever object we desire, no questions asked, we travel and go to places that only quite a handful of people can afford to go to. Yeah, what's there to complain? Honestly, there isn't. I don't hate my life. I hate me. There's a difference. I hate the fact that me, Valerie Chan, is living my life, the life that is laid out in front of me. I just don't think someone like me deserves to be living a life like this, a good life. Well, this is where the self-loathing comes in. Anyways, there's nothing wrong with my family, or my life. I'm the only problem in this equation. Lately, i've been feeling rather, suicidal. I'm more than depressed. I'm at that stage where depression is just like white rice to the Chinese, it has become a daily thing. I feel it so often, i don't think there's anything else that i feel anymore, other than sadness, rage and annoyance. I hate feeling negative. Being negative means you're probably pissing off everyone else in the room with you and trust me, that's the last thing i out to achieve.
I've been locking my doors more often nowadays. I usually lock myself in my mom's room, like i am right now, because i don't have my own personal space. My family hates it when i do it, they ask me, is there something you're hiding from us, what the hell are you doing in there. Typical questions and i don't blame them, but when i lock my door, yes, it's because i'm hiding myself from them. Hiding, and shielding myself. They don't understand it, but one word from them and there goes my mood. It doesn't even have to be hurtful or annoying, but sometimes certain words just click, and one word leads to a thought, and a thought leads to another thought and before you know it, i can't think straight anymore. All i wanna do is jump off a building and let the world disappear from my mind, and let me disappear from the world. That's why i make it a habit to close and lock my doors, so that i wouldn't have to deal with them. I wouldn't have to look them in the eye while listening to whatever they have to say, be it good or bad. Usually though, they're bad and i end up trashing the room out of anger and self-hatred. After that, i'd go around cleaning everything up because one, this isn't my room, two, i can't let them see what i've done. They can't know. They can't ever know.
I'm a flawed person. I have so many flaws that i managed to only have two friends in my life that i can actually count on, and they're twins. It's not a bad thing, don't get me wrong, but they're twins. There will always be this invisible line between them and i, an unbreakable line, but i'm cool with it and with them. Although i feel like that isn't how it i am to them as of late. I think i'm pissing them off, what with my negative attitude and constant hating on the human race. It sounds like i'm blaming the world for what i'm going through, yeah i know, but it isn't like that, it really isn't. My opinion, is that why do bad things happen to good people, and the greatest things happen to bad people, well maybe not bad people, but people who don't deserve it as much as some others. Take me for an example, i'm a bad child. I'm a pathetic excuse for a human being and i pretty much do not deserve to be alive right now and living this life that i have, and yet here i am. There are innocent people out there, good people who are willing to do so much more for the world, who deserve to live my life. Instead, they're out there suffering from hunger, lacking from a roof over their heads and whatever hardships people without homes or stable income are facing while i sit around everyday failing the one purpose i have in life for now. I disappoint, i sadden, i piss people off, i'm nothing but a burden. I shouldn't be here. I don't wanna be here. I don't wanna continue being here and cause everyone else to be unhappy or be that person to hold them back from what they could've had.
Do you see now, how alone i am? There are how many billion of people in this world, but none are willing to have a conversation with me. I don't blame them, i blame myself. I blame myself for being the way i am, for not being better, for not being strong enough to make myself better. I searched up "suicidal" on the net this morning, and i looked through signs of a suicidal person. I guess it can be confirmed now, that i am indeed on the verge of being a total suicidal freak. Out of the 9? characteristics of sign and symptoms of being suicidal, i have managed to fulfill 6 out of those 9 characteristics. 6 out of 9. That's bad right? Haha, i wish things were better than i hoped them to be. I wish i had someone to talk to so i wouldn't feel so alone. I wouldn't feel so unwanted and isolated, but in life, you can't always get what you want.
I'm trying not to lose myself. I'm trying, but i'm so tired. I'm so tired of breathing because every time i do, it hurts and it kills me on the inside, bit by bit, until there's nothing left but a hollow shell. I wish i wasn't alone. I wish i were a better person so i'd have people that actually cared about me, people who actually want me there with them as they experience the good things life has to offer. I wish that i wasn't me. And that i was somebody else. Somebody better, somebody who isn't ashamed, or guilty about being alive. Someone who isn't pathetic like me. Someone who isn't me.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Songs of Scenarios (my feelings)
I know i've got my problems
And it starts with me
She saw something inside that i can't see
And late at night yeah, she'll comfort me
Hold on to me
Hold on to me
I got a nervous habit
And i drink too much
She says she hates her life and wants to change her ways
She wakes in the night and whispers, oh so quiet
Hold on to me
Hold on to me
Don't you ever leave
Don't you ever leave
I know i've got my problems
And it's probably me
So, hold on to me
Hold on to me
I stay up too late
And it hurts to breathe
I said, it's four a.m girl, go back to sleep
Sometimes at night i can hear her dream
Come rescue me
Come rescue me
Don't you ever leave
Don't you ever leave
I know we got our problems
And it's probably me
So, hold on to me
Hold on to me
I'm a drifter's body in an open sea
And i see my reflection staring right back at me
When there's no place to go and you're left all alone
There's no place like home
Hold on to me
Hold on to me
Just stay with me
Just stay with me
I know we got our problems and you'll probably leave
So, hold on to me
Hold on to me
I could never leave
I will never leave
So, hold on to me
Hold on to me
Hold On To Me
-Mayday Parade
These lyrics might not make sense to a lot of people, but if you feel the way that i do, you'll find that these lyrics is that thin piece of thread that's holding on to you right now, and it's keeping you from falling into the hole that will be the end of you. I usually feel better after typing out lyrics that i can relate to and yeah, i'm actually feeling a little better now. Music helps a lot. Truth be told, music is the only thing that helps, or is the only thing that's willing to help. "I know i've got my problems and it's probably me." This particular line speaks it all for me.
"And How Do You Feel About That?"
I need therapy. Or at least, some kind of professional help from people who know what they're doing. Every single day, with each passing hour, i can feel myself slip away, little by little. I'm losing my grasp on everything. When i'm not busy thinking about how different my life would be if i hadn't done what i did, i'm thinking about ways to lock myself in my room with a bottle of sleeping pills in hand. I'm not in denial anymore. No, i'm way past that. I've come to terms with wanting to kill myself. I've come to terms with me being suicidal. If asked the question, "And how do you feel about that?", the only answer i have would be, "I don't know," because in truth, i really don't know how i feel about me going suicidal. I remember from my previous post when i touched on topics about suicidal people/teenagers, i talked about it not being the right decision, that it was something like an act out of impulse. I used to think of suicide as a cowardly act to hide or escape from problems, and honestly, i still think that it is, but now i don't see it as something wrong, or foolish anymore. Actually, suicide is probably the most logical thing in my head right now. Nothing made more sense than just disappearing from the surface of the planet.
I used to hear my conscience telling me how wrong and stupid it is to take the short-cut out of life, but now, all i hear is silence. Horrible silence lingering around my head. I wish i could go back to when i was okay. When my biggest problem in life were my grades. Back when i didn't have to deal with so much guilt, disappointment and self-pity. It's so hard to breathe. It's so hard to do anything other than sleep or cry. I wish i could stop crying. It makes me feel weaker than i already am. I hate the fact that one single word can bring me and all the walls that i've tried to build around myself down in a nanosecond. My problem is me. My family's problem is me. My friend's problem is me. My school's problem is me. The society's problem is me. The world's problem is me. Why should i be here? What did i do to deserve to be here, to have this life when millions of innocent people, are out there somewhere, suffering with what they probably didn't deserve. I don't deserve this. I'm not worthy of anything good in life. That's probably why i'm sitting here, feeling like this, while typing all these out. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe this is all that i deserve. I just wished that my family didn't have to go through all those shit for me. I wish i could just disappear. It'd be easier for them, for myself. God, help me. I have no where else to go. I have nothing left for me here. I'm too broken. I'm too wrong. I'm bad. I'm bad for this world. As if the world isn't bad enough. Please, just let me be gone.
I can't handle the things that are going on in my head and in my life. I'm not expressive like my brother, he talks about his problems and whatnot all the time to my family. That was always something i could never do. I don't know why, but i just feel like i shouldn't burden them any further with my own problems. I don't want to make their life a bigger mess than i already had. I just want to disappear so people around me would stop suffering because of me. I don't want to be the reason for people's unhappiness. I want everyone to be happy all the time. I want everyone to never feel the way i'm feeling right now. I hope everyone would never stop feeling okay.
I used to hear my conscience telling me how wrong and stupid it is to take the short-cut out of life, but now, all i hear is silence. Horrible silence lingering around my head. I wish i could go back to when i was okay. When my biggest problem in life were my grades. Back when i didn't have to deal with so much guilt, disappointment and self-pity. It's so hard to breathe. It's so hard to do anything other than sleep or cry. I wish i could stop crying. It makes me feel weaker than i already am. I hate the fact that one single word can bring me and all the walls that i've tried to build around myself down in a nanosecond. My problem is me. My family's problem is me. My friend's problem is me. My school's problem is me. The society's problem is me. The world's problem is me. Why should i be here? What did i do to deserve to be here, to have this life when millions of innocent people, are out there somewhere, suffering with what they probably didn't deserve. I don't deserve this. I'm not worthy of anything good in life. That's probably why i'm sitting here, feeling like this, while typing all these out. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe this is all that i deserve. I just wished that my family didn't have to go through all those shit for me. I wish i could just disappear. It'd be easier for them, for myself. God, help me. I have no where else to go. I have nothing left for me here. I'm too broken. I'm too wrong. I'm bad. I'm bad for this world. As if the world isn't bad enough. Please, just let me be gone.
I can't handle the things that are going on in my head and in my life. I'm not expressive like my brother, he talks about his problems and whatnot all the time to my family. That was always something i could never do. I don't know why, but i just feel like i shouldn't burden them any further with my own problems. I don't want to make their life a bigger mess than i already had. I just want to disappear so people around me would stop suffering because of me. I don't want to be the reason for people's unhappiness. I want everyone to be happy all the time. I want everyone to never feel the way i'm feeling right now. I hope everyone would never stop feeling okay.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Ashamed
I don't think i can live with myself anymore. This past week has been a wake-up call for me and all of it just feels like a bad dream. A nightmare. Waking up, i've realized that i'm so far off from the person i once was. I went through this dramatic and very much drastic change, but not in a good way. Jesus, not even in the slightest positive way. Every second my eyes stay open is another second i spend thinking about the things that has gone wrong in my life. It is also another second i spend hoping that a car would come and end my life. I don't feel like i should be breathing anymore. Yeah, it's wrong to take the easy way out but this pain, this struggle is going to take its toll on me very soon. It's going to come at me at its maximum speed and claim me for the wrongs that i've done. I don't mind it. I really don't. There are only two things i want right now. One, is for me to die. Two, for me to miraculously turn back time. Out of the two options, the only probably one would be option one and i would do it myself if i wasn't such a coward.
I get it now. Why some people are suicidal and would actually go to the extend where they put a blade to their wrist and cut deeply without a sign of hesitance. I've been through it, not the wrist-cutting part, but the part where you realize that killing yourself is the best option out of all options. You see, when you're stranded in such a situation where there's no point being here, alive on earth, you just want to die because you feel that being dead would be less painful and much, much more bearable than being alive while watching your whole world burn down and gets destroyed right before your very eyes. And of course, you can only remain stationary at the edge of it all with the torch in your hand. Everything that has happened is my fault. I take the blame. I bare with the consequences. I hope that God is able to find His faith in me again and provide me with the strength and self-confidence that i am desperately in need of right now.
I need help, but there's no one around that would be willing to listen to my pathetic side of the story. God, i'm fucking pathetic. I'm so pathetic that everything i do scream fucking pathetic. In case you don't know exactly how i feel right now, i have taken some time to type out the lyrics to a very, very relatable song. And here are the lyrics. If you think they're too pathetic, just sod off. I can't bear with all of this right now. I just can't.
I get it now. Why some people are suicidal and would actually go to the extend where they put a blade to their wrist and cut deeply without a sign of hesitance. I've been through it, not the wrist-cutting part, but the part where you realize that killing yourself is the best option out of all options. You see, when you're stranded in such a situation where there's no point being here, alive on earth, you just want to die because you feel that being dead would be less painful and much, much more bearable than being alive while watching your whole world burn down and gets destroyed right before your very eyes. And of course, you can only remain stationary at the edge of it all with the torch in your hand. Everything that has happened is my fault. I take the blame. I bare with the consequences. I hope that God is able to find His faith in me again and provide me with the strength and self-confidence that i am desperately in need of right now.
I need help, but there's no one around that would be willing to listen to my pathetic side of the story. God, i'm fucking pathetic. I'm so pathetic that everything i do scream fucking pathetic. In case you don't know exactly how i feel right now, i have taken some time to type out the lyrics to a very, very relatable song. And here are the lyrics. If you think they're too pathetic, just sod off. I can't bear with all of this right now. I just can't.
Do you know what it's like
Not to know what is wrong or what's right
I've been throwing away the efforts of me
To leave this all behind
Don't feel sorry for me
I have no excuse
I brought this on myself
I've felt ashamed for so long
And you
You are the reason i go on
I don't know how i got here
I don't know where i went wrong
I'm a player that's aged and won't stay away
Cause i've been in the game for so long
Another day, another way
For me to finally make a change
Another day, another slave
But i'll keep trying
I've felt ashamed for so long
And you
You are the reason i go on
I've felt ashamed for so long
You
You are the reason i go on
I can't escape all the problems i made for myself
I'm in hell, and accept all the blame
I can't escape all the problems i made for myself
I'm in hell, here's the look but don't stare
I can't escape all the problems i made for myself
I'm in hell, and accept all the blame
I can't escape all the problems i made for myself
I'm in hell, take a look but don't stay
"Ashamed" by Jamestown Story couldn't have been more perfect.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Tragis
I've been wanting to update for a while now, but things have just been a handful. The first exam of my last high school year is starting tomorrow and i'm extremely under-prepared. Again, there's no one to point the pistol of blame at other than myself, but i don't want me talking about how fucked up i am for my upcoming exam to be the center of my update today. I honestly just want to talk about the tragedy that has struck the world. By the world, i meant my country and China. Who would've thought that Malaysia would acquire overnight fame, but of course it just had to be for the wrong damn reasons. Basically, what happened is that, my country lost a plane of 239 passengers including the flight crew on its journey from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, to Beijing, China. Lost how? That is the ever-revolving question around everyone who gives a damn about it right now because it has been almost a week since the plane was last detected and still, there isn't a single soul out there who has confirmed info on what exactly happened. There are theories, of course, as to what might have happened to the plane. The more logical ones would be the plane has crashed landed into the sea, or the plane has been hijacked by people for God knows what reason and had long landed at some secret hideout. Personally, i would like to believe that the Boeing 777 has been taken over by someone else other than the assigned pilots because that scenario would at least give a chance of survival to the remaining passengers. If the plane had crashed into the sea, chances of the victims surviving would just be non-existent because it's not just a day or two anymore, it has been a week. 8/10 human beings would not be able to survive off-land without food or clean water for 5 days and it has almost been a week. This isn't Life of Pi, this is a matter of 239 souls. This is a matter of the broken hearts of the family and friends of the 239 souls.
When i first heard the news, i was surprised but i did not look any further into the matter as i thought it was just a news error. I mean, hello, it's Malaysia. The land of peace and unity. Shit like that don't happen here. And honestly, it really rare does. So when my friends told me, "hey a Malaysian plane went missing", i kind of shrugged it off and thought nothing much about it. Obviously i had not yet grasp on the gravity of the situation. When i got home, and was free of all stressful things in life, i got curious and finally decided to look it up. To say that i was on the verge of an anxiety attack as i read the news update about the issue on BBC would be the understatement of the year. With every word and information that gathered in my head, my breath got heavier and heavier until it became so intense that i had to put my phone down and tried not to pull a Carrie in my bed room. It was horrible. The pictures of family crying and screaming and waiting helplessly. The more you looked at them, the more you wanted to be bail out of life because you could feel your tears forming behind your eyes, and your heart breaking inside you, knowing that theirs were already broken. The wait was the worse. Scars heal with time, but only when you've found closure. The families and friends of the people involved could only wait and wait and wait, struggling to hold onto that thin piece of thread with hopes that the ones they hold so close to their hearts were safe and sound. It made the air so hard to be breathed in. It made the world look sick, cruel and evil. It made life into something worth hating on.
I prayed for them. I prayed that others would pray for them as well because they need it. It's the only thing we as bystanders can do. It's not much, and obviously it isn't enough to help, but i really do hope that all things good find their way to the lives of these people. These sad and broken people. I wish there was something else we could do other than waiting for news updates on the radio and holding on to prayer beads every night before sleeping. Something that could help make a difference. Something that could stop the pain. Something that could miraculously make everything alright again. Pray for MH370. Pray for the friends and families of the passengers of MH370. Just pray.
When i first heard the news, i was surprised but i did not look any further into the matter as i thought it was just a news error. I mean, hello, it's Malaysia. The land of peace and unity. Shit like that don't happen here. And honestly, it really rare does. So when my friends told me, "hey a Malaysian plane went missing", i kind of shrugged it off and thought nothing much about it. Obviously i had not yet grasp on the gravity of the situation. When i got home, and was free of all stressful things in life, i got curious and finally decided to look it up. To say that i was on the verge of an anxiety attack as i read the news update about the issue on BBC would be the understatement of the year. With every word and information that gathered in my head, my breath got heavier and heavier until it became so intense that i had to put my phone down and tried not to pull a Carrie in my bed room. It was horrible. The pictures of family crying and screaming and waiting helplessly. The more you looked at them, the more you wanted to be bail out of life because you could feel your tears forming behind your eyes, and your heart breaking inside you, knowing that theirs were already broken. The wait was the worse. Scars heal with time, but only when you've found closure. The families and friends of the people involved could only wait and wait and wait, struggling to hold onto that thin piece of thread with hopes that the ones they hold so close to their hearts were safe and sound. It made the air so hard to be breathed in. It made the world look sick, cruel and evil. It made life into something worth hating on.
I prayed for them. I prayed that others would pray for them as well because they need it. It's the only thing we as bystanders can do. It's not much, and obviously it isn't enough to help, but i really do hope that all things good find their way to the lives of these people. These sad and broken people. I wish there was something else we could do other than waiting for news updates on the radio and holding on to prayer beads every night before sleeping. Something that could help make a difference. Something that could stop the pain. Something that could miraculously make everything alright again. Pray for MH370. Pray for the friends and families of the passengers of MH370. Just pray.
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