And suddenly, there was no warning... just a huge wave of heavy snow crashing its way down the mountain, obliterating everything in its path.
That's almost how I feel like right now. An avalanche just crashing through, myself a helpless skier being wiped out by the thick white snow. And there's no knowing how I will come out of it.
I have school, classes, final projects, papers, presentations. I have my desire to go out and explore more of this island, to familiarize myself with places and eateries, beaches and parks. I have my social circle, the friends I'm trying to know better, my classmates, working out, eating. Struggling to find people I truly trust, feeling left out, being ignored. The spiking jealousy within me of another dear friend, threatening to derail my self esteem. The paranoia of what others think about you. My awkward behavior, the desire and the effort to be liked by others. The melting sensation inside of my failure to do so. The aftermath which includes self-battering. You know the general stuff of everyday existence.
Then there's my sister. The legal issue with her car, her relationship with my mother. Her emotional well-being, her relationship in which I cannot approve of. My brother, and his emotional and spiritual well-being. Worrying for his studies, his friends, his mental development. The nagging guilt of not being there to guide him as an older sister. Hoping and praying that he becomes a better man as he navigates his teenage years. Chastising myself for my failure to keep in constant contact with him.
My friends back home. Wishing I could have more time to speak to them. Wondering if ever did any wrong. Wondering if I've been a horrible friend, failing them repeatedly. Wondering if I've annoyed them, made them mad. Paranoia. Always.
The shock of Khalid's death. The shock that in the same year I've witnessed so many deaths. Two of which was at CPU. So much death, so much pain. The realization, the aching, I feel for those who have not found Jesus. Who do not know God. The heavy bombardment I've been getting at school, from LGBT and gay rights which I cannot support, and am struggling to keep my faith up and trying not to let it get to my head. The pressure, the thin line between not being supportive but yet being loving as a Christian.
My spiritual life. My numbness, my stale feelings, my dry soul. The feeling of sitting on the fence, drawn to both sides. My ignorance of the Word, my ignorance of prayer, the stale, pale, life I've been living. The cold empty hollow I carry inside each day, and then returning home to fill it up with mindless filth, or distracting humor, and adrenaline movies. The dis-motivation to pursue God, knowing I'm drifting further and further away from him, and yet... allowing myself to float cold, away into the dangerous unknown of an icy ocean.
The news from my mother, today... my grandfather had just suffered a second stroke. Her unwillingness to tell me about what the doctor said told me more than enough. One of her cats going missing. The strain of dealing with her siblings, the medical costs for my grandpa. Praying hard for his salvation, because we all know deep down he hasn't much time left.
So yes, that's it. An avalanche. More than just four walls closing in on you, squeezing you into a claustrophobic space, squeezing you till you have no air left in your lungs, squeezing till at last you don't exist... till you collapse from the pain, the pressure. Khaled Hosseini once quoted in his book, "Before this, Laila could never imagine that the human body could withstand so much and yet remain functional, alive." But he was merely talking about physical harm, to a physical body.
Have you any idea how much the human emotion can withstand? I do. Because it withstands so much. Takes such a beating, every day, from something, or another. If it's lucky it only gets a sting, maybe a papercut, a bruise. On bittersweet days, perhaps it gets a hug, a warm embrace, but gets lashed as well resulting in an open, gaping gash. And, hell, on those bad days, when it bleeds, it comes out pouring. The spirit turns pale, loses its warmth. Watches helplessly as the blood gushes out, turning everything red before its eyes. Like an alarm. Like an emergency warning. The heart can't take it, its saying. Its hurting, it says.
And then there are hell days. Broken bones. Giant welts. Invisible burns everywhere. It's lying in a pool of darkening maroon red. It can't move. It just wants to sleep... forever. It has lost its strength.
I see now that the emotional spirit is so very much tougher than that of a physical being. Yet, not everyone is strong enough sometimes. There are days when it just wants to sleep forever, but instead it gathers up whatever blood it has left to trudge on, healing the wounds where it can. Depending on the antidote, searing scars sometimes remain. Depending on the severity of it, it takes a long time to heal. Look at yourself and wonder, how many was your spirit in that emotional state? How many times did it feel like sleeping forever, but instead you willed it to carry on...? You carry those invisible wounds inside, wipe away your tears, smile, and get through the day while deep down you're frantically bandaging up all cuts and gashes, nursing those heavy bruises and limping around with a broken soul.
My guess is that you've probably experienced it several times. If you're lucky, maybe just once. Because no one ever has that perfect life. Everyone hurts, somewhere, no matter what the facade is like on the outside.
I don't care if you think this is funny due to the overwhelming sentimental content and "extreme emotional" words I stringed together. I wrote this because I've seen so much hurt in this world, seen so much pain in others, in almost everyone I have encountered. I've experienced it first-hand, and I know what it feels like to hide everything inside and try your best to be your own paramedic, and unknowingly damage yourself permanently in the process because you're too ashamed to ask for help. Because you're too ashamed to cry out, to talk to someone. Yes, I know. And I've seen it with so many people as well.
If it wasn't for my God, Jesus, I don't know what would have happened to me today. I don't know where I would have ended up at, in, or where. Probably somewhere deep and dark, cold and empty.
Not that it's warm and sunny every day. ;)
In fact, like I said, I've been having rain spells and cold spells lately. Sometimes, hail storms. Recently, an avalanche. Yay for lame metaphors.
Thanks Lord, for being there for me anyway. I love You! And I pray for all those broken, sorrowful souls out there, who are trying their best to lick their wounds, to heal again, to carry on. I pray you give them strength and courage. Like You've always given me. Thank You.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Remembered
Death comes every day, it's an accepted part of life which people deal with, whether we like it or not. Sooner or later, everyone dies. Someday, we all meet death in the face.
And then, after that, what?
I have faced several deaths of others recently. My step-grandmother passed away from cancer a few years back, when I was about 13 or 14 years old. I was not close to her. In fact, I did not like her very much, for I held a grudge against her for always calling me fat whenever she saw me.
While I was at CPU, one of the lecturers, Mr. D, committed suicide, an accident which heavily rocked the entire CPU family of students and lecturers and admins alike. I remember Mr. D as the jovial, funny man who came to give a motivational speech while I was in the IBDP program(a semester later I switched to CPU) and he was full of life, full of energy, full of motivation. I didn't think about him after that motivational talk, and I never saw him again even after I joined CPU. But his death shocked me. I couldn't believe he'd taken his own life.
A month ago, acquaintances of mine from high school were posting tributes and condolences about a friend of theirs; a boy I did not know. He had been killed in a car accident. I went to his facebook page, and from what I gathered he was a well-liked, popular person, loved dearly by those who were close to him. An acquaintance from high school had only just said goodbye to him at the airport when the latter came to see him off to the UK for studies. His girlfriend was in the UK then, studying. She flew all the way back for his funeral and wake. Such a young lad, full of passion for the Lord... taken away so suddenly. So soon. I can only imagine the pain his loved ones went through... but I was only an outsider. I didn't know this boy. I only gathered that he was a good person.
Yesterday, another friend told me about the death of her grandfather, who had been suffering several medical issues. I offered my condolences, gave her hugs, told her I was so sorry. However, she was at peace, she was in our prayers, her family was also at peace. Their beloved grandfather was in heaven. They knew they would see him again one day. Jesus promises them as much.
However, all these stories were just me, watching from the sidelines. Always an outsider. Always "understanding", but never really knowing how it actually felt. Those people were not personal to me. I did not know them. Their passings are sad, many tears shed but... it never really affected me. I gave it all a few moments, shut my eyes, and then, I'm distracted once again with my every day life. I forget all about it.
Till tonight.
Tonight, I learnt about the sudden passing of a friend. Not a close one, of course, but this guy, this guy I knew on a personal level, at the very least. He had been a classmate. He was my president of CPU. He was the guy I sat down with once, in class, chatting casually. He was the guy I noticed had marks across his wrists which he tried to hide with thick bracelets--and when I tried to ask him about it, he immediately clammed up and avoided me. He was the guy who told me how ugly my yellow jeggings were when I wore them to class on the last day of instruction. He was the guy whom I joked about calling Melora a donut, "double chocolate", he added. He was the guy who was crazy about motorcycles, who came into class with his huge helmet and thick leather jacket. He was the guy who nicknamed me "Lilo" because he thought I looked like the character, and never stopped calling me that. He was the guy who stood up there as our MC for my graduation ceremony, whose smooth, clear voice I fully admired. He was the guy I managed to grab last minute photos with, during which he draped his sweaty armpit on my shoulder(and even remarked how stinky it was, too) and made me squeal. He was the guy I met up on the sixth floor during break, where we sat on the sofa and he drank chocolate milk although he was supposed to be fasting. He was the guy who told me the reasons why he did not fast-- and why he could not stop his smoking habit. He was the guy I often admired, and wished I could be closer to, but couldn't do so because we were so different in nature and personality. I would never have fit in with his crowd. He was a guy whom I have memories of, from the first half of the year, meeting him for the first time in class, getting annoyed at him and laughing at his jokes. I knew him. He made a huge impact on me, because he was so intriguing in nature, so lively, yet, deep inside, I sensed he was a broken soul.
He was, in a way, my friend. And he is gone. Forever.
As I received the news, I sat down to process the shock. It took a while for me to fully realize that... oh my gawd, he's gone. The jovial fellow, gone. Was it only last June that he had given those amazing speeches at the grad ceremony? Was it only in January I had first met him, and had so many encounters with him? Just like that... gone? All the memories, all those funny conversations we had, all came rushing back like a river after a storm. All the tiny details, all the words, everything. How... how could it only have been this year? How could he be gone? For the first time in my life, someone I knew personally, someone whom I shared memories with... was gone. It doesn't seem real. Not one bit.
But the part that kills me most is the sudden realization that he has not gone to a better place. As much as we all say "RIP", and hoping that he is looking down smiling on us... I know he is not. And that breaks me. It breaks me so hard. I want to know that perhaps, in his final hours, something amazing happened. I want to know that he is in Heaven, where true happiness is. However, I suppose only those who believe in Christ will understand this. Everyone else would scoff, probably hate on me for writing this very frank words. And for that... I am sorry. My intent is not to hurt anyone, least of all everyone who is hurting and grieving over his death. I am too. I am grieving. Except I grieve for his soul.
I closed my eyes and told the Lord, "It's not fair. It's not fair."
"He didn't deserve it. He did not."
"He didn't deserve it. He did not."
And somewhere inside, I heard, God is a loving God, but He is fair and just.
Keep in mind, I am not talking about his death here on earth. Though I wished that there was more time for him. More time. More time. Isn't that what everyone deserves? Why... why him? I don't want to dwell on this. I can feel my tears welling up, just thinking about it.
Flames. All I see are flames.
No. Not true. Don't think about that. It might not be true. There is always a possibility.
Though I know that possibility is really slim. I hate those flames. I hate it. It breaks my heart.
Are you there now, looking down at me? Can you see me? Can you hear the voices, the prayers, the sobs, the grieving of your loved ones? Do you hope for them? I hope you do.
I'm so sorry, Khalid. I'm sorry I didn't... I didn't try. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.
No words can even describe how I'm feeling now. I just... can't. All I want to do is just try to absorb it. Push away the denial. I was going to write something but now... I can't dwell on it. I'm speechless in writing. I just cannot. I cannot do this.
(CPU Grad' Ceremony. Stinky armpits on my shoulder, you gross, disgusting president.)
I wish... I just wish...
.. I wish for so much. For you.
All I can offer now are my apologies, dude. I'm so.. sorry.
Khalid Walid, I've been so very honored to have gotten the chance to know you, even if briefly. Thank you for making a huge impact on me in just six months.
Rest in peace, Khalid. You left us too soon.
Thanks for the memories.
Always.
Lots of love,
Esther/ Lilo
Monday, November 18, 2013
The Burning Room
It's not a silly little moment
It's not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dying breath of
This love that we've been working on.
Can't seem to hold you like I want to
So I can feel you in my arms
Nobody's gonna come save you.
We've pulled too many false alarms.
We're going down
And you can see it through
We're going down
And you know that we're through
My dear,
We're slow dancing in a burning room.
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