Rant-filled empty box.

I may have mentioned this before, but I hate being alone. The idea of dying alone, failing alone, suffering alone, succeeding alone, partying alone, living alone and just generally, being alone is quite frightening. Although you could argue, it is nice to have some time to spend with only yourself as company, nothing can beat having a good friend hold your hand as you walk the lonely road of life, facing things you would hate to even imagine facing alone.

I’ve just (Well, not really) finished what you’d call "High School" (I don’t actually know what’d you’d call it) having completed the IB, and so I suppose it’s only natural to have most of the people I know talk about how excited they are about going to university and starting their independent trek into society as so-called "young adults", as if they haven’t at all, for once, come across the idea of how completely and utterly and absolutely terrifying it is.

It is fucking scary to be abruptly taken out of this nice, cosy environment you’ve happily and dutifully decorated with your friends and family and basically, everything you’ve grown to know the world to be, and just as suddenly, thrown into an unfamiliar, harsh and possibly unkind unknown. We are (At least, I am) afraid of the unknown. By definition (of "the unknown"), we are faced with a situation of which we don’t actually know anything about. Sure, we’ve heard a few stories, seen a couple of pictures and maybe even visited the area, but as human beings, we know that basing all of our preparations for this great, mysterious journey on unreliable information would just be stupid and a bit short-sighted. I mean, it’s one thing to simply witness an event, and it’s a completely different thing to actually be there, enduring it, absorbing it and living it. We cannot truly grasp the essence of it until we’ve experienced it ourselves. And yet, it’s all we have, and all we can do until we’re given that inevitable and seemingly violent shove into the cold and dark streets of adulthood.

It’s up to you (And if you’re lucky, the help from a few kind on-lookers) to feed yourself, do your own laundry, make your own new friends, take care of your own hygiene, make sure you don’t get sick, decide when you want to get married, maintain good relationships with people you love, know when you make mistakes, keep out of trouble, choose how you will obtain financial support (To name a few). Everything that you’ve left other people to do for you all these years - all the responsibilities and important decisions, they’re now left to you. The thought of that could be exhilarating and even liberating, yes, but who will stop you from making all the wrong decisions? Who will keep you from turning into the kind of person you never wanted to become?

I don’t like being alone, and if growing up, moving on with life, starting a new chapter means I have to do it in solitude, then I don’t want to grow up.

I think I’d much rather prefer to be a coward and run away from my troubles by grabbing Peter Pan’s hand and flying off to Neverland where I can run about carelessly forever as an eighteen-year-old girl.

At least until I’m ready, because for the time being, to think about going through that much change alone is quite simply, and I repeat, terrifying.

And so, to those of you who have battled this on-flow of change and alterations head-on, I salute you for your bravery. And to those who have actually lived to tell the tale, I am on bended knee, forever humbled by you and the wise ways with which you have survived what could be called the holocaust of stability.

Of course, knowing how different everyone is, none of this could even remotely relate to any of you. In which case, I apologise for having been selfish by only talking about myself and my pitiful attempts at grasping onto youth and dependency for as long as possible (Hopefully, that’s forever). :]

I’ve been doing some thinking, and a little bit of questioning, and if what I have gathered is accurate, then frankly, I am shit scared. Mainly because it seems that though I could live this life to it’s fullest, settle down happily, have beautiful kids, and/or travel the world, the bigger picture only seems to lead me back to the question I have left to ask.

Am I doomed to spend eternity in the pits of hell simply because my inadequate, imperfect human mind cannot fully comprehend?

It’s very sad to see young people (and when I say this, I refer to people below 17 years of age) try so hard to grow up. Seeing it happen more and more frequently and with younger and younger people only makes it that much more unbearable to watch.

They try so hard, and you (well, I, actually) have a(n) (un)familiar urge to grab them by the shoulders and just tell them to stop. Tell them that "maturing" isn’t as great as it is advertised to be. Tell them that they should embrace their youth, their childhood, their innocence for as long as they can, because when it disappears too quickly (that is, unnaturally against nature), it becomes a sad loss that simply cannot be replaced, only regretted.

Now, I’m not talking about the mental maturation of people (because that’s something special in itself), but the physical because really, that’s what makes it all so sad. They do things they believe will make them grow up and way before they are mentally capable of understanding the full complexity of their actions.

I know, I’m not of amazing age and maybe I have no place in even speaking about all of this, but (and I will sound very conceited when I say this) I think I understand the consequences of "growing up" too fast, and they are not pretty. I think that’s also why I beat around the bush and avoid addressing the matter directly by making my points in very long sentences with lots of conjunctions and commas.

Here’s a secret: the world is a beautiful and wonderful place where unfortunately, terrible things can happen to the most undeserving of people, and quite frankly, I’m scared for you.

So, stop; it’s not as great as it is advertised to be. You should embrace your youth, your childhood, your innocence, for as long as you can.

There’s no hurry.

This may not make sense to some of you (if not all), but I guess that doesn’t matter right now. So, read on with no inhibitions or fears or judgments, just the sense of pure wonder and consideration.

There are a certain breed of people that the rest of the world sees as perfect. Hence, they are the so-called "perfect" people and nothing they do could ever be wrong or incorrect or even short of being absolutely brilliant. In fact, everything they pursue comes out in the best way it possibly could. Perfect.

And then there are the people that the rest of the world describe as pessimistic. They see only the bad things in life, but claim to be simply realistic as they recognise that these "perfect" people, just like every little imperfect one of us, have their flaws.

Yet, the "perfect" people put on their masks everyday and live their lives "perfectly" while the rest of the world looks on in wonder and envy and these other people try so hard to stop themselves from ripping off the stupid disguises these "perfect" people pull off so well.

There is a kind of tension as the other people understand that there are many more dents in the sculptures that are these "perfect" people than the rest of the world is letting themselves see. And they hide it so well.

This only makes these other people feel worse about how "imperfect" they are in comparison, and so, they wish all the more that the rest of the world could open their eyes to the horrible injustice they are putting their own souls and egos through. They must be told, because, after all, it doesn’t seem right keeping such a big secret to oneself.

And the other people are left wishing they could be "perfect", too.

The rest of the world doesn’t really care anyway.

We sit here so obliviously. Breathing, just like everyone else, and worrying about the same minuscule things. Does my hair look alright? What if I fail my exams? Why isn’t my chicken rice ready yet? Does this have to be so expensive? I hate my mum; she won’t let me get that cute top I saw in the mall. Why is this lagging so much?

People say it all the time. It’s in movies; song lyrics; poetry. So, why do we never listen?

Or is it just me?

It is said in a variety of ways - live life to the fullest; live each day as if it were your last; life is short. But no matter what exact words are said, they all come to the same conclusion (That conclusion, I hope you can come to by yourself soon enough).

And life… Well, it’s annoying.

Why does it have to be so fragile? It irritates me knowing that life can be taken away so easily without even the thought of a second chance; that I could very likely die tomorrow. In fact, any one of you could.

I know, people die every day. And we’ve probably thought about it once or twice, but the thought got brushed away as soon as something more "interesting" captured our attention; like that new XBox game, for example. Or the latest SonyEricsson.

Sure, it’s there at the back of our minds somewhere, but really, do we actually understand what death is? Do you realise that once a person’s gone, they’re not going to come back? That you’ll never get to see her smile again, hear her laugh, or tell her how much she means to you? Or maybe you’ll spend your moping days wishing you’d have spent more time getting to know her better, only to be further let down with the knowledge that you won’t be able to anymore. You can only regret.

I’m sorry; I, myself, have just been reacquainted with our good friend Death, and I was ashamed when I found myself acting as if I’d thought it would never come. Well, it did. And the truth is, the Grim Reaper is going to pass by many more times. Every person you meet, or see, (or smell, if you’re into that) whether you know them or not, is going to be given a visit.

So, I come to you bearing one question. Are you ready? Ready to accept that there are worse things to worry about than looking good, or getting into a good college?

‘Cause I wasn’t. And look what happened to me.

And sure, maybe there is a great, magical, wonderful place people go when they die. It’s just hard to recognise when we spend so much time living in today’s world.

So, life is tough. It really sucks sometimes, and your frustration/depression level can get so high you want to scream in life’s face and just tell it to back off, and though it can get to the point where you’re not sure if anything will help or not, I can only say, "Life is fragile," and hope you (and me) know/remember what to do with that information.

How do people forget?

He was only 16.

Today, I shall go against my usual style of article. I’m going to ask you a series of questions (that don’t really matter, I just have nothing to do and these ants were annoying me, so…) beginning with:

Don’t you hate it when you have a candy stash, and you don’t want to waste it by eating it all at one go, so you save it for a rainy day when candy would be much more appreciated? That day finally comes, so you go to your candy stash but to your dismay, you find it has been infested by ants.

Well, I doo. It’s painfully annoying. Thoughts rush through your head and you start to wonder, "Maybe I should have ignored my conscience, been greedy and eaten the whole lot while I could have?" You question what is right and wrong; being greedy or careful? You’re left waving your first in the air, kicking the candy container and stepping on the ever-so-cunning culprits while simultaneously screaming over and over again that one word - "Why?"

What is one to do, but regret? I guess you could learn a great life lesson about proper evaluation and whatnot, but that’s besides the point because the point is, ants are an annoyance.

I’m told everything has it’s own individual use in this world, even those creations we wish didn’t exist. Lizards and frogs eat insects. Snakes eat rats. Like these creatures, I’m sure the ants, too, have some mystical meaningful purpose for being on this planet, but forgive me, for I simply can’t see it right now.

We’ve all heard the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants, so we all know us humans could take a lesson or two from these creatures about being cooperative and hard-working and prepared, and maybe they do help with the household cleaning by carrying away little crumbs from under the dinner table, but really. Ants? Existance? Why?

I am not an ant expert, so I could be dreadfully wrong, and if that’s the case, ants of the universe, I apologise for underestimating you so. Also, if you happen to be an ant expert and thus, know how to answer my questioniong, I’d be glad to hear you out; just so when I get the urge to kill all ants I see after having my candy attacked once again, I’ll have (a) reason(s) not to. For the ants’ sake, of course. Because if they attack my well-kept candy again, I’m going to have the bugspray ready and loaded.

And don’t even get me started on the ants that bite. Ohh, the ants that bite; even more annoying.

It’s sad how people are forgotten.

How many of you actually know things about your great grandparents? What was their full name? What was their favourite colour? How many brothers and sisters did they have? When was their birthday?

My guess is: not a lot, if any.

It’s sad how the second generation from now will know nothing about you other than the fact that you’re related to them somehow; how the third will know even less. Is that what you want to be? Some person’s great grandparent who nobody knows the life of? Nothing but a name and date on a family tree? A number in a population count? A face in a yearbook?

Forgotten?

Nobody will know about the time you lay next to your overdosed girlfriend/boyfriend, holding their hand and crying your eyes out until you fell asleep, wishing they’d be okay. Nobody will know about the time you stood up to the biggest jerk in school even though you were as scared as hell. Nobody will know about all your horrible stepfathers that beat your mother day after day just because he could. Nobody will know about the great things you’ve done simply because they weren’t important enough for society.

You will be forgotten.

I read a comic a few years ago. It was talking about how only the interesting people who do interesting things are remembered by a fairly decent amount of people. I sure as hell am not interesting, so, why bother living when nothing we do now matters to anyone but ourselves or possibly a few others? Even worse when it doesn’t even matter to us.

It made me want to do something that will change the world. I longed to become that person who could make people better themselves. I wanted to be interesting. I wanted to do interesting things. I wanted to be remembered. I listened to Mahatma Ghandi; I wanted to "be the change I wanted to see in the world".

Then, I realized that there are so many other people out there just like me, if not better than. What makes me any more significant than them?

Nothing.

Like I said… sad.

Having said that, however, there are lots of people who have done great things that remain forgotten. Nobody knows who they are. And that’s why biographies are written; to remind people. But don’t get discouraged. I said before that there is nothing that makes me any better than the "so many people just like me." It also means that you are like these people, and you have just as much power to change society as the next person; you could be the one who earns the right to be remembered. There is no such thing as equal results; only equal opportunity. Everyone has the same chance; it’s up to you how you use yours.

Do you want to be remembered?

What’s stopping you?

Do something amazing.

All that talk about religion in the last post has led me to another question (And I know, it doesn’t seem like I talked about religion very much, because I didn’t, but I had to have some excuse for me choosing topic). This one is religious, so if you’re a strong member of your religion, maybe this bit of the article isn’t for you to read. I don’t want to offend anyone, so warning is necessary. On my side of the internet, hearing your opinion on the matter wouldn’t hurt, so it’s really your call on whether to scroll down any further.

Before I went on holiday in December, I was certain there is a creator; a lord; a God, if you will. I wasn’t sure of his identity, but I definitely believed a mighty power that created us all existed. While on holiday, however, I managed to program by head so that I was as ready to accept my beliefs as being false just as readily as I would accuse your beliefs as being untrue. I think this contributed a lot to the outcome, so take note of that last comment.

Also on this holiday, I went to a lot of religious talks (with my family; there was a two-day district assembly and three meetings a week to attend), and it all just confused me. In the religion I was brought up with (I won’t give names; that’s just uncalled for. I will, however, refer to it as a type of Christianity. If you’re just itching to know what religion this is, message me and I’ll consider it ;D), we are taught to believe in all the basic Christian things; the ten commandments (that were reduced to two: love God, and love your neighbour. Why were they reduced? Because if the love is there, why would you go against the other eight commandments like obeying your parents and et cetera?), respect for life (no drugs, smoking, masturbating, killing, abortion, premarital sex), the ransom, the existance of a future paradise, the Bible and worshipping God.

I understood the commandments and respect for life part very well because it didn’t require religious knowledge to understand why these restrictions were made. No drugs; they are potentially extremely fatal. No smoking; it kills yourself and others. Masturbation kills sperms - life. Abortion is killing an unborn person. Killing is, you know… it kind of speaks for itself. And premarital sex, that deserves a whole other article, so I will only say, "wasted life" and "respect".

So, it’s clear I understand those things, its the other bits that confuse me. I was taught that the life we are living now is only temporary. God, Jesus and the angels live in heaven, Jesus being the King. Several angels turned bad, their leader being Satan. When Satan and his minions were cast out of heaven and onto Earth, bad things happened. One day, Armageddon will come and everyone will be destroyed, even those "good". However, they will be resurrected and get to live forever in a cleansed, brand new, vamped-up Paradise Earth where we will not remember anything of our past life. Everyone who may have been "bad" but did not have to chance to know about this paradise, and thus, did not not exactly reject let alone accept this as truth, will get a chance to live by God’s rules, and if they are unable to, they will die their second death which is permanent thereafter. Children who are brought up by believers are "safe" as they are automatically given access to paradise as long as their parents remain believers, until they are of proper age to know their own minds.

Now, this is what I don’t understand. Aren’t humans flawed? So, when do they ever know their own minds? Adults don’t always know what they’re doing; so how can children ever be of ‘proper age’ so as to decide if they believe in what they are being taught or not. Also, if we do not remember anything of our life now, wouldn’t it be very different in Paradise? We would be completely different people. Why not pick random people to get into Paradise then? Or better yet, everyone? :p

The ransom is another thing that puzzles me. They say God loves us so much he took the life of his only son in place of our sins. First of all, Jesus did not die when his life was taken; he was sent to heaven and made King. Second of all, couldn’t God create another Jesus anyway? Thirdly, I may be wrong, but I think the story goes: God was angry at people because they kept sinning. He wanted to kill us all. Jesus asked him not to; but to take his life instead. Jesus’ mortal body died, people lived and sins were forgiven. Ransom? How? What? Confusion. Please explain.

The Bible is what all beliefs in this religion are based on. They say that there are errors in the books of other religions because we all know about language barriers. When these scriptures were translated from Hebrew, they could have been mistranslated. Copies were made, resulting in copies of the mistakes. More mistakes were made in these copies and copies of the copies were produced. Can you see where I’m going with this? Isn’t it possible that their Bible has these mistakes as well? Maybe their scriptures are copied straight from the Hebrew writings. But what if there has been a language evolution between now and then. What if the Hebrew in the scriptures is different from the Hebrew people know today? Everything is dubious.

Lastly, the oh-so-big question of, "Why did God create us?" They say his purpose for us is to worship him and live in Paradise. If that is so, why? Why must we sing praises to him? Whyyyyy? Why did he create us? To use us like dolls and action figures? Or is it a reason too complex for the human mind to comprehend? What is it?

The rest of the not-so-big-but-big-nonetheless questions that cannot be answered:

1. If God made us, who made him/her?
   It is an elephant question. What is an elephant question? I’ll tell you the story. It is/was believe(d) in some place that the world is held up by an elephant. So a question was raised: What is holding up the elephant? And the answer came: Another elephant. Another question: What is holding up that elephant? And you can see where I’m going with this.

   I was told God is so powerful he created himself. But how? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe, as I said earlier, it is of reasons too complex for the human mind to comprehend.

2. God is perfect. So, why does he create imperfect humans?
3. God is perfect. Why did he create Satan?
   Maybe it’s that God is perfect, therefore he cannot create other perfect beings? What about Jesus? Wasn’t he perfect? Or maybe God just didn’t want to make us perfect.

I know it seems I’m writing a letter to God, because these questions can only be answered by God. Maybe I am. Either way, the fact remains: I do not understand. I wish I did. I want to believe, but I don’t understand and I cannot believe in something I do not understand, can I?

NOTE: There are other details of this religion, just most of it has nothing or little to do with what I don’t understand. Also, this religion is not common in Brunei, so I’m guessing a lot of you have no idea what I’m talking about.

I was thinking today, as one often does when he/she is left alone for long enough, and I came across a horrible reality that I’d come across many a time before but never thought of writing it down simply because it’s part of the reason for my cynical mind, and I didn’t want to upset anyone.

But the time has come for me to make havoc once again, so here I go. I’m spitting it out, with no consideration for my readers, with no thought of sugar-coating it in any untruths and fairytales. This is cold, hard "truth" (Either that, or I’m even more pessimistic than I thought and everything I say in this article is therefore only true in my mind).

People leave.

In one way or another; be it death, travel, relationships or just plain loss of contact that drive us apart, people leave. And it’s a terrible thing to think about, but it happens, and one day, if you’ve lived in a cage with your family your whole life and have not had the chance to experience this for yourself, someone is going to leave you. Yes, you.

Don’t get me wrong, some people stay for the longest amount of time, and those people who stay are wonderful and therefore make your life journey that much more wonderful, however, the fact of the matter is, some people leave. Looks like I’m starting to repeat, so I should get to the next paragraph now.

There were times (notice the past tense) I’d wonder why we even bother to make friends. Why we put the in effort to meet new people and spend that tiny bit of our lives with them, be it in high school, for a few days or even a couple of hours.

Why? Because it lets us live easier knowing there are nice people out there worth meeting? Because they filled our hearts with happiness like no other had done before? Because it just makes you feel good about yourself? Because there’s no reason not to?

Doesn’t your newfound joy crumble when you have to say goodbye, with or without warning? Isn’t it painful every time you shake hands with a person for the first time knowing, no matter how much this person will influence the way you live your life, you’re eventually going to have to part (And that’s not even including those people you meet and instantly/grow to passionately hate)?

I’m a depressingly pathetic person; I can’t deal with that kind of reality. I don’t do well with ‘Good-bye’s and funerals. And it’s sad, really, because I used to be prepared for these kind of things. I used to think of it as part of life; growing up; learning. Maybe I never realised departure’s true sorrow because I had no real people to cry over, or maybe it was religion and, from what I was taught, the hope that there will be a next life where everyone "good" will come together again and live (once again) happily. Whatever the reason, that reason is now void.

I used to fear dying without anyone knowing. I didn’t like the idea of someone finding my dead body after 5 years, not knowing whose body it is. That fear is closely linked to this other phobia I had; dying without everybody I know and/or who know me knowing. I had this plan in my head that before I died, I’d tell someone to let everyone who ever knew me know that I’d passed away. Just because I couldn’t stand the thought of people asking, "Hey, have you seen Sue-Anne lately? How’s she doing?" only to get the reply, "Oh, she’s dead."

Horrible!

Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Does it matter? What matters?

All this fascination with the emo fashion scene(and by ‘fashion scene’ I mean, clothing, hair and accessories) has left us onlookers a little puzzled. Puzzled about what? I’ll get back to that.

Now, this goes for anyone who looks like he/she has any bit of emo-influence. Right now, I don’t really give a crap about the meaning of being ‘emo’, because quite frankly, everybody’s opinion of what is and what isn’t differs to some extent. I often find myself arguing about what ‘emo’ means, and it just goes round in circles so this time, I’m not going to bother. Maybe next time.

I’m basing this article solely on appearance, so if you have an ‘emo’ appearance, don’t tell me you’re not emo because, as much as I believe you, I don’t care right now. Not for this article. And if you knew me, you’d know I don’t like to use the term ‘emo’ in daily conversations which is highly unrelevant to the matter but I lost track. My final statement of defense is: I care little about this latest fad, which is why I hardly ever mention it, but I just couldn’t help myself today. So, I’m just going to be out with it.

Back to the first paragraph, what are we all so confused about? Well, sex, of course. The thing with this fashion is that the boys wear clothes made for girls, and the girls wear clothes made for… girls, actually. :p The girls cut their hair short, and the boys keep their hair long. The boys wear cosmetics, and the girls, they wear cosmetics as well. And the ironic thing is, with all the makeup, the boys start to have faces that look like girls’, too. So, basically, it’s far too hard to tell whether a certain somebody is an emo-influenced boy that looks like a girl, or a girl that looks like an emo-influenced boy, ’cause it’s all so jumbled up, I bet it doesn’t matter anymore. No idea what I’m talking about?

Girl? Boy? Boy.

Girl? Boy? Girl.

Girl? Boy? Boy.

Girl? Boy? Boy.

Girl? Boy? Girl.

That was fun. I got a little carried away there with the pictures, haha. But the bottom line is, it’s confusing. Those boys could have passed off so well for girls, and vice versa. The two sexes are merging together and soon enough it will be as if there is only one gender in the world. I wonder what that would be like.

As a disclaimer, I publicly announce that I, personally, have nothing against people and how they wish to dress because, in all honesty and truth, it’s their decision(Bear in mind, I am fully aware that genetics is probably part of the reason boys look like girls and the other way ’round). Also, I am not targetting anyone in particular; I am viewing this situation as a whole. I just found it quite funny how I was looking at a picture of a girl one night going, “Wow, she looks just like an emo boy.” Which led me to wonder if the person in the picture is really a girl to begin with.

Wow. I spent most of this post apologizing and explaining why I’m not talking about being ‘emo’ here. Haha. :]