Aflame-d

Nothing could have prepared me for what I had to do next. I ran into the woods and towards the soccer field, running uphill with only the vaguest sense of direction. In the dark, fallen branches and moss-covered rocks appeared. There was a fuliginous fog thick in the air giving an eerie feeling.

An omen of what was to come.

I tripped and fell repeatedly and worried but I have never felt so sure of doing something before, not ever since the accident. I ran. I ran like I had golden shoes.

Five minutes later, I was crouched behind the trees fifty feet from the soccer field. My heart thumped like a techno drum-beat.

The plan? Simple. Light and run.

It lit with a sizzle that reminded me of every July Fourth spent with her. I was mesmerised. The pooping started. The fireworks bangbangbang in sync with my heartbeat. When the firecrackers finished, I heard, “STOP OR I’LL CALL THE POLICE!”

I mentally cursed. I should have ran before the firecrackers ended. Regrettably, the distraction had failed. I doubled my speed, my heartbeat that of someone suffering from asphyxia. I avoided the brightly lit areas, moving zigzag, wishing that the overweight security guard would not catch up with me.

I finally reached the stairway. Taking two steps at a time, I traveled to the third floor science lab. As foreseen, the doors to the lab were locked. The fire extinguisher near the lab aided me in breaking in.

Upon entering, my nostrils were attacked by the fetid lab. I walked straight in, passing through the labyrinth of cabinets with bottles of chemicals to turn on the gas chamber.

I walked to a table bent down, took a Bunsen burner from the cabinet, connected it to the gas pipe and turned it on. The flames came alive and I was instantaneously hypnotised. I chortled and then came the waterworks.

The addiction began exactly a year ago today after I drove my best friend into a truck that had jackknifed. I was in the thousand -yard state of intoxication, we both were, but common sense had flew through the window when I entered the car turning me namby-pamby. She fell into a deep slumber to the highway’s monotonous lullaby while my right-side burnt.

For a year now, I have failed to comprehend my survival. I think of her every moment and see her in my dreams, the exact identical dream each night. Her weight falls dead on me, crushing my chest, stealing my breath, and she is cold and wet, like melting ice. Her head is split in half and a pink – gray sludge oozes from the fracture in her skull and drips down my face, and she reeks of formaldehyde and rotting meat.

Guilt, cold wrenching guilt had formed deep in my heart, thus the need for warmth.

Thus the need to finish the job.

I walked back to the cabinet full of chemical, picked bottles labelled with ethanol and splashed them around the lab. I got another bottle this time labelled methanol and watered myself with it. With a hand full of wooden splints and the Bunsen burner, the science lab is aflamed.

I laid on the table in the middle of the lab and waited for the fire to engulf me. Second thoughts began to leak into my head but I did not move an inch. As I watched the ceiling, I played back the accident, replaying how I killed someone and lost half myself in the span of seconds.

Footsteps and shouting resonated through the corridor as I had begun to lose consciousness but it was too late.

At least, I hoped I would have been dragged out to sea by the undertow before they arrived.

“Whether or not you believe in Fate comes down to one thing: who you blame when something goes wrong. Do you think it’s your fault – that if you’d tried better, or worked harder, it wouldn’t happen? Or do you just chalk it up to circumstance? I know people who’ll hear about the people who died, and will say it was God’s will. I know people who’ll say it was bad luck. And then there’s my personal favourite: They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then again, you could say the same thing about me, couldn’t you?”
– Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Picoult

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The Chibok Girls

April 14th, was the third anniversary of the kidnapping of 276 girls, from the Government Girls Secondary School, school dormitories, in Chibok, Nigeria.

This poem is a cry for the safe return of the rest of the 195 girls that have yet to return.

It’s been three years now. Three years since the 276 girls were taken by force, in the dark of the night from the place that was the foundation of their aspirations. It’s been three years since 195 girls have last seen their families.

It is hard to comprehend. Always has been. It is difficult comprehending how people said to be human beings could celebrate the kidnapping of girls on the path of a better future. It is difficult comprehending why the government has yet to rescue the 195 of them. However, it’s a luxury for those whose problem is in comprehending how such an evil could happen and not in how it had happened to them.

There are things many of us will fail to fully understand. The emotion the parents feel when the next girl, who was managed to make it back home, isn’t their daughter. The emotion a mother feels when her daughter comes back with a baby although she is almost half the age, her Mother was when she had her first child. The agony some of the girls felt losing their babies while escaping.

However, despite the mess, a few thing are clear. Justice shall prevail, we are not afraid, and we shall #BringBackOurGirls.

Sports Meet

Today marks the start of the long-awaited Sports Meet.
Tensions are high,
And so are our spirits.
Although we’re all dressed in various outfits,
Our hearts beat to the drum of triumph.
May the day ahead be full of great achievements and blissful memories.

Take note that success can only be measured by effort.
So as you race ahead or float in mid-air for half a second, remember that the journey is what you desire.
Take note that whatever the outcome, it was worth the time.
For the chance to escape comfort zones should be cherished and your effort shall be your only glory.

24/11/15

Monday Mornings

They start with a bus ride
Just like any other day
The freezing air from the AC hits your smooth baby skin

You wonder why you are here when you could be back home under your warm blanket sleeping

You put your earphones into your ears, the music awakens your muscles and nerves
You feel at peace – although you aren’t listening to anything classic
You look out the window, the bus moves slowly and you’re tapping your feet to the beat

Today is going to be a long day~

SMALL YET IMPORTANT

Nowdays, we people tend to miss the small yet important things in life
We sometimes take them for granted and let them slip away from our sight

It’s the way we have grown up in this materialistic world
If it doesn’t shine or it’s not overly large we just miss it and think that it’s not important enough

Everyday we come to school and the gates are already opened for us but it has never crossed our minds who open the school gates early in the morning
It has never crossed our minds who ensures that the school is safe and nothing has happened the night before
We dont even know who cleans that 1st level toilets

These people wake up everyday with a smile on their faces even though they are dead tired because they know that they are helping others, a whole new generation with a great environment that enables them to achieve their dreams

We don’t even consider that
We don’t help at all, we litter, make a mess and not care
While they are cleaning we step on the wet floors

Its okay, they can do it again
After all they get paid
We don’t bother how much effort they put in to do those small yet important tasks that we take for granted

The funny thing is that they don’t complain and continue to help us

Its time we learnt from them~