This is a story created by Clement Foo, edited by me.
The Story
"The story is about a boy, Wei Lai, who doesn’t know and can’t grasp the concept of love. That feeling of love was gone after the loss of a loved one and he blamed himself for it. Ever since then, he had felt empty inside. When he decided to delve into choral speaking, he felt as if he had finally found people who cared and who actually wanted to listen to his problems, for the first time in his life. But not everything lasts forever. Soon enough, he was feeling more empty inside than ever before; he did not know what he wanted to do with his life. He could not take his own life either as he already made a promise not to do so. However, he did know one thing. He was always intrigued by the culture of Japan; anime, manga, their work ethic and sense of respect. He had always wanted to go to Japan, it was his ultimate life goal. Maybe there, he could find the meaning of love."
My name is Wei Lai. I’m 18 years old.
“What do you think it means to live your life?”
“I don't know and I don't care. What's the point of living and existing anyway? I don't even know my purpose for existing. We are all living beings born to face death one day, so what's the point?”
Every day is just the same wash, rinse and repeat the process. It always feels like eating a packet of cold and stale nasi lemak. I always wonder about the point of my meaningless existence in this world. I'm worthless, untalented, and a complete bother. Why did God create me in the first place if this was how it would end up becoming from the very beginning?
“What are you trying to prove?”
“You're a waste of time for others, I bet it's the same with your own family.”
"If you can't even perform simple tasks and solve simple questions, how are you supposed to be someone successful in the future?"
I could never do well in my academics so my parents were often disappointed. There were plenty of teachers who had given up on me. I didn’t even have a social life either. There was this other guy, Robert, who was just like me; isolated from everyone else. I understood his experiences, but we were never friends. At the end of the day, I was still alone; just an outcast. What a meaningless existence.
All I ever wanted was for people to accept me. I just wanted them to give me even the smallest amount of support. That would’ve been enough in my honest opinion. I wanted to achieve something in life. But when I look at myself in the mirror, I always knew that it was something that I could never achieve in this life of mine. Hilarious. I saw someone reflected in the mirror that wasn’t me, he said to me:
“So what are you going to do about it?”
His features resembled mine, a splitting image. It was weird to talk to someone who looked exactly like myself. Not only that, I was the only person who could see him while others couldn't.
“A puppet with no real sights set upon what it wants. Following others for the sake of being noticed, to be accepted? You can never achieve anything in life like this. But if you let yourself free, perhaps you could achieve your own happiness.”
It was just a dream. I was sure of it.
Perhaps I was too tired of everything. I just want to go into a deep sleep and never wake up again.
I gave up on being a proper individual. I don't care about living a life that I could be proud of. I want to take the easy way out of things, even from life itself. Just what is the point that people want to be successful? It would just end up being meaningless anyway.
I lied to my parents, skipped classes, was constantly having arguments with those around me. I closed my ears, and don't care about what or how others think of me now.
I just wanted to live a simple life not having the need to shoulder any expectations at all, is that too much to ask for? I don't want to die with all this burden on me, can I?
We all die at one point. Living is just a temporary thing. People always die in different ways; they die due to old age, diseases, get in accidents, get killed by others perhaps? Or even them killing themselves. Death is such a nice thing to have around is it not? I wonder if people think of sad things when they die. Perhaps I will find that out one day when I die.
“Value your own life and don’t ever do anything as stupid as taking your own life. Your life is precious and it’s a sin to ever treat it lightly.”
So what?
I don’t care about God, neither the concept of Heaven nor Hell.
I just want to live the way I want to.
My parents found out about my behaviour in school. Of course, they were angered by my behaviour and they were even more strict towards me since then.
I was pissed. Why can’t I just do anything I want with my life?
I kept my mouth shut, and the person from my dreams appeared once more. But this wasn’t a dream, he whispered to me.
“Ahhh, wouldn’t it be nicer if you just…talked back? Why not let them understand your intentions? Voice out your opinion? Do you really want to live being enslaved by their way of thinking? Do you really want to be enslaved by the way of living that has been written down and controlled by society? Break the norms, you can be the first one to do so.”
His voice was cold, yet so soothing. I felt like I had someone I could rely on for once.
I snapped. I yelled at my dad.
“Why wouldn’t you guys understand? I just want to live freely. I don't care about what you want. I'm tired of living under instructions. I hate you all, screw you all. I wish you guys were dead.
What did I just say? Why?
I don't know.
I don't care.
It felt good.
“How did we end up with a child like this?”, my dad said wilfully.
“Didn’t that feel great?”, the voice whispered.
It continued to go on and things felt much better. More than ever, that dad of mine for whatever reason started trying to spend more time with me. He tried to talk to me more. He tried to help me out with school loads more. Though I could never understand his intentions.
What was his reasoning? I can’t understand. But, I couldn’t be bothered by it anyway.
Until one day, he took his own life. I stood there in front of that cold body of his. What do I do? What should I do? What CAN I do?
"I wish that you were dead instead"
“Well this is your fault now, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be better if you died instead? Remember those words?” he expressed heinously as he appeared once more.
I couldn’t say or do anything about it. I’m sorry for what I have done. I dropped everything around and begged; pleaded God to take my life instead of his. But prayers are always to be left unanswered. We’re all just acting as entertainment for God himself. And I am just a fool in the story. I was never free, I was only tricking myself that everything would be fine if I lived the way I wanted to.
Was this really what I wanted? To end up with the guilt of killing someone?
I wanted to cry out.
But that would just show others how weak and pathetic of a person I am.
I wanted people to listen.
But I didn’t want to annoy others.
I wanted to redeem myself,
But I’m just a worthless individual, an untalented idiot, and… a murderer.
Does God really give shelter to those who believe in him? They said God listens to us through our prayers?
What a load of absolute crap.
If God was the one who planned everything in the beginning, it would just make him the author of this world, with us as his actors and actresses in it. Everything that’s good comes from God? What about the bad things? So, every unfortunate thing that happens should just be blamed on the devil? But, the devil himself was also just a creation of God.
My head hurts.
What is the point of existing? I never asked to exist in the first place.
Someone.
Please.
Help ME.
“Don’t you think it’s too late to ask for help?”
What else do you want from me?
“I can help end your suffering”
How?
“Don’t you want to be free from the guilt of killing your sin?”
I do
“Don’t you just feel the anger towards that God who made you?”
I hate Him.
“DON’T YOU JUST WANT TO END IT ALL? ONCE AND FOR ALL? ABANDON THE ROLE THAT YOU WERE FORCED TO TAKE? THE ROLE AS A SUFFERER? THE ROLE OF A MURDERER?”
THE END. I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO END.
“You know what you have to do now don’t you?”
“What can I do? What SHOULD I do?”
As that reflection of mine danced around playfully, a noose appeared around his neck.
“Wha-”
Before I could say a word, he vanished right before my eyes, just to reappear lying on the ground with a pool of blood. He looked disfigured, mangled even. It was disgusting.
Did he just fall from above? My heart was racing, cold sweat trickling down my cheeks. WHAT WAS GOING ON?
“Or something more nostalgic? Perhaps a stab to your own heart?”
He appeared once more with a blade pierced straight through his heart. Piercingly cold dead eyes, with blood, splattered and stained all over him.
I came back to my senses from the shock. I looked down and noticed that I was holding onto a small blade. Pressing the blade against my neck, I wanted to just end it all. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I can’t stand this world. It’s not as if my death would bring an impact to the world itself. But why can’t I do it? Why can’t I build up the strength to end it all? Am I just this spineless and wimpy? Anger boiled at the brim of my existence and yet I couldn’t even finish myself off.
I’m pretty sure this is what you wanted right? What YOU created us for? Just to toy with us and enjoy our suffering. The ‘Almighty God’ created us, humans. The being that so many people cherished and worshipped. I’m so tired of your little games. I don’t care about the afterlife. I never asked to exist in this damned stage play that you created for us anyway.
I never signed up for any of this. But what can I do? I’m nothing but one of the many actors on the stage, waiting for my curtains to close. A slave…. An actor…. Nothing more than garbage.
“Go talk to a counsellor.” The most common reply that one could give; the one I HATED hearing the most.
“Think about your family.” But I’m nothing but trouble.
“Behave yourself!” AM I NOT BEHAVING ENOUGH?
Why can’t you guys understand that I’m already trying my best?
“How did we raise a child like this?” a familiar voice sounded behind me.
I just want to rest. I never want to wake up again.
Ahh, my heart feels like it’s freezing and my mind just feels blank. What am I supposed to do with how things are right now? I don’t want to keep living up to people’s expectations anymore and I don’t feel like voicing out anymore. The voice in my head keeps getting louder and louder, increasingly becoming more prominent in how I think. I have no goal. I truly hate God for creating me. I never asked to be created. I don’t care about entering Paradise or suffering in Hellfire. I just don’t want to exist anymore.
He appeared once more.
“So why not just jump down from a building? Why not let yourself be hit by a car? Or a train? Moving vehicles perhaps? Or you know what would be fun? Going off like how your father did. Now that would be an absolute masterpiece!”
“Would you just shut up already?! Shut up and leave me alone! Why do you even exist? Have you not brought enough pain to me? Is it not enough to satisfy you and your sick intentions? I’ve always hated you. The decisions that I made all this while was because of you. Everything. I am done.”
“Don’t you get it? Hating me means that you’re hating yourself.”
“And wouldn’t it just be fun for me to see that? The countless number of times I’ve been watching you torture and torment yourself over all the things that you did on your own?”
He was holding a knife in his hand and I was holding one in mine as well. Not only that, there was blood. As I looked up, I saw a dead corpse with blood all over, dripping from the corners of its mouth and trickling from its nose. I was frozen and shocked at the sight. My heart was pumping rapidly but I could still feel it freezing up.
I woke up.
It was just a recurring dream. Since then, I kept having the same dream. I kept having the thoughts of ending my own life running rampant in my mind. It felt like this trauma will never stop, that I was seemingly born and bred only to be mentally abused. But then I remembered my father’s words, the promise that I made.
“Value your own life.”
How I hated that promise. It felt like a shackle on my very existence that whenever I came close to ending everything, I couldn’t do it. I could never have the courage to pull it through. I’m just truly utterly useless. I could just break the promises like how I used to once upon a time. But I don’t want to break anything anymore. I don’t want to fight back anymore. I don’t want to care anymore.
Tears kept falling down my cheeks. I can’t handle this anymore.
I can’t continue living,
Yet I can’t bring myself to end it all.
………………….
Time to stand on the stage and put on your masks.
Dance along with the tragedy and sing along the cries of agony.
Follow the never-ending script that has been laid out for you and YOU alone.
For you are nothing but a puppet and an actor on this stage play.
Everything is fine.
No, it's not.
Everything will get better eventually.
And will go right back down to Hell again.
Our existence is meaningless.
Brought into the world by one brief moment.
Just to tear ourselves apart and vanish in the end.
Breaking down, the stream of tears just wouldn’t stop flowing.
“Piece by piece we build up the walls around our heart, thinking we’re safe from the people around us. Hiding and praying that no one would ever find us, remember us. Just let me die in peace.” I cried.
“Sacrificing human emotions for the sake of entertainment, for the sake of indulging in the suffering of others. Even if we were to die nothing would matter. One of the billions of people on this planet could easily replace my existence.”
“Don’t think that way you said. Your existence surely has its own meaning”
But, masks we wear to please others, will one day be exposed. Slowly, but surely.
If what we do to protect ourselves is considered as ‘right’, I would rather stay in the ‘wrong’
“END IT, YOU WEAKLING”
“SPINELESS COWARD”
Time was stagnant. I could feel the curtains closing on me.
So is this it? All it takes is just one quick second.
I’m tired. I’m exhausted. Just done living up to people’s expectations.
Please, don’t back down now.
“Is this it, could this actually be it?”
Maybe
“No backing up now. Come on, don’t be shy.”
“Just one little push”
All they could say is to ‘not think, “don’t feel”, “stop overreacting”
All they could do was talk, but none of them could relate.
But I’m just the same, I’m all talk but no action.
It was said that people who are depressed, lacks attention.
Perhaps I did?
I don’t even know how it feels like to be appreciated,
So tell me.
Please just tell me.
What does it feel like to be appreciated?
How does it feel like to be paid attention to?
Those were just unnecessary emotions, weren’t they?
So just how could YOU possibly relate to ME?
“Exactly.”
AN ATTENTION SEEKER? ME?
WELL IT SEEMS LIKE IT’S YOU GUYS WHO HAD TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO UNDERSTAND.
I’M JUST TOO TIRED OF LIVING TO EVEN LISTEN TO YOU GUYS ANYMORE.
“They will never get it.”
In the end, all I could do is to fake my feelings.
………………….
Music is supposed to be the remedy of the soul.
A comforting factor for those who are weary.
But it sounded so bland, no resonation, no emotion, nothing.
Chinese songs, Malay songs, English songs - I’ve heard it all.
In the end, it never helped.
Is there anything left that could save me?
Give me the refuge I need from these emotions.
Save me from this cruel world and the harsh reality of existing.
Provide me comfort in this seemingly empty heart of mine.
Religion never gave me much hope,
All it gave me was just doubts and unanswered questions.
A reason for my anger to only grow towards the Creator and the world.
A reason to hate my existence even more.
Putting on the final act itself,
Stumbling across the stage which I thought was my last one ever,
And that was when I found something that intrigued me,
The Japanese culture.
Their way of living captured my curiosity.
The way they appreciated all the things that are around them was intriguing to me.
The Japanese animations that sparked my interest,
Their music.
For some reason, it gave me a reason to hold on.
Even if it’s just a little bit more.
Just ... a little.
I wonder, why?
Their appreciation of the nature that is around them.
Their practice of kintsugi,
In which they repair broken pottery by filling the cracks with gold,
Showing people with pride in its history,
Not hiding any of its flaws or imperfection.
These were one of the few things that intrigued me.
I never really had any interest of my own.
I was always told to follow the crowd.
Nothing ever interests me but this.
Animation has sparked something within me.
I was attached to animating itself and I immediately knew,
it was something that I wanted to do.
The music that I listened to seemingly resonated with my feelings.
It was all relating to life,
How we were all brought to life without a proper reason,
The terrible life of living up to society’s expectation,
Feelings that were given to us that were temporary,
Anger, sadness, happiness, everything.
It’s as if I could take off my mask for even a little bit.
The bit of comfort that I wanted.
The passion that ignited within me towards their language,
It was unlike all the others that I have learnt until now.
Difficult as it may be, it never stopped me in my tracks.
For the first time in my life, I have a sense of purpose in life — a goal.
A life that felt lost where I felt so cold in, had just gained a tiny flame.
It felt soothing.
But I just don’t know where this is going. If having this hope will even benefit me.
My reason to live continue slowly grew because of the spark of hope and curiosity that was lit up inside my heart. A tinge of warmth, as if I had started to find a reason to be.
A year has passed by since I committed myself into the cultural ways of the Japanese.
I closed my eyes, seeing him one last time.
“So that’s how it goes, even after what had happened, you STILL want to live on?”
“It’s just that I may have found my purpose. Even if I can’t get rid of my guilt, I have to move on nonetheless.”
“What about me then? You can’t get rid of me and you know that.”
“I don’t have to.”
“But didn’t you say that you hated me?”
“Perhaps. But I have reasons not to now. And it’s time for me to go.”
“...”
I opened my eyes again, staring out into the clear blue sky through the window.
“This is it…”
The words that came out from my mouth.
“Good for you”
Perhaps this would be the last time I ever hear from him,
We will never know.
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