My December

This is the final entry of 2014 (also, this is the only non-poetic entry, damn).

A year filled with ups and downs. A year shrouded with many mysteries, some stemming from the past.

People asked me. I ask myself. One question. Why engineering?

I don't know. It kinda ruined me. It's a hellish course, but it's not like I can't handle it. I mean, my results were pretty satisfactory so far.

It's just that sometimes, I feel that engineering falsely defines who I truly am.

I'm always an artistic person that is somehow damn smart in science-related subjects. Not bragging or anything, but I just can't really relate to science; more specifically, the science used in engineering (I'm a huge fan of quantum physics).

If anyone of you know me well enough, or bothered to at least try and read through some of my poems, you'll know that I'm a broken person; I deal with that through creating multiple personalities; they're my shelters.

It sounds crazy, but it certainly made me a lot more stable than the past few years. Though, engineering does really weird things to personalities.

Yet, engineering made this year seem... fast?

I felt as if yesterday was the first day of university life. Like, seriously, no exaggeration. Why? I don't know. Maybe suffering speeds up one's sense of time; not that it makes any sense. It doesn't help that we only have 12 weeks of classes and a shitload of holidays.

My college life in Taylor's Canadian Pre-University felt fucking quick, yet it seemed productive. I did lots of things, learned lots of things, found myself a girlfriend, met many great people; it changed my life. But this year? What did I do?

Yes, there were many dates with my girlfriend, many friend gatherings, many completed video games... Yet, it still felt empty.

It all comes down to me asking myself, why engineering?

Yes, people tell me that I'm smart, so I should take it, but is this what I really want to do?

There will be people shitting on me for this. I'm indeed a hypocrite.

Oh well.

That's the problem about writing on this blog. It's associated with darkness so much that I can't seem to write the "ups". Yes, there are many, many ups, but I just can't seem to type them out.

Guess a whole year of poetry kinda wrecked me, eh?

Though, I'm certainly less of a sociopath than three years before, which is a great thing. I'm starting to get more and more apathetic towards society's judgement of me. I started to be more brave, more bold, more willing to venture forward.

Three years ago, there was no effort. I didn't even try to change myself; all I did was writing about how society sucks.

Yes, society still sucks, but I just stopped caring.

I turned from a person who deemed himself the trashiest piece of shit, to a person who thinks extremely highly of himself.

I'm a prideful person. Sometimes I felt too prideful. It's dangerous.

Yet, still better than miserable me.

Maybe I put too much blame onto engineering. Maybe it's just me. No, it is about me. It's who I am that made me like this. There's too much complexity in a supposedly simple life.

Sometimes, I feel that I'm a criminal of my own life. And that's making me miserable. I don't want to be miserable, but I am. Every single time I write a poem, or a story, I was going through a miserable time.

What causes my misery?

Me.

And I will change this.

2015 will be a change. It's a resolution that I've never made before:

1.) Live a simple life.

There. Done. That's it. How am I gonna get there? I don't know, but I'll set up smaller goals. I aim to not be so complicated by the end of 2015.

Throwing the negativity aside, 2014 was a pretty memorable year. It's just that I have a habit of dwelling in the dark side while undermining the happier moments.

December is my month. Other than being the month of my birth, it is the month of reflections.

Reflections, eh? Let me ask myself, who am I?

I am me. Nobody will change that.

In the past, it was all about friendship; no. It wasn't just about that. No, it wasn't just about relationships either. It was everything. A sudden change in everything. I realized that three years ago; I understand them now.

There are mountains and roadblocks up ahead. There will be. We aren't human without them.

Every year is a change. Every day is a change. This is a change. This is a realization. This is the darkest storm, and this is also the brightest light. This is me.

And this is my December.

Nightmare

A day in a wasteland with two rusty trailers
A rocky wonderland for its two dusty rulers
A forsaken paradise for those who hail her
A daily sacrifice so bloody to fuel her

Dirty mental prison, I'm trying to crawl out
Detrimental reasons led to this fallout
Definitely a demon who puked his gall out
Deathly dark of this trailer; I'm all out

A commanding talk has broken me so badly
A demanding walk, so slowly, so sadly
A reprimand had me seek the ones who had me
A borderland madly lured me to mad me

This is the other trailer, a grail of a calm farewell
This is the mother jailer, a trail of red embalmer's smell
This is the daughter sailor, a frail bed is her seashell
This is the slaughtered failure: a stale me
And this is my hell

destroy

body scattered
shatter the glass dividing us all
a day will come
there is no one left
a fantastical view
drill us in the brain
witness
they said it will take time
another walk across the sea
emptiness within legacy
there will be a day
two lives and many
a printed image of a wall
this is but a stroll
seal my eyes forever
this day will come
i will wait

sprinting through hallways
dripping wine-scented blood
or blood-scented wine
the mightiest winds destroy
someone will slip
a crash, loud, a splatter
a red tornado
flying
i will land

Gluttony

I met a hungry man who ate and ate, ate and ate, ate and ate.
He loved the sight, smell, taste, feel and sound of meat.
He disgusted me so much that it made me feel thin although I try not to eat.
I can never stand the sight of him chewing, munching and licking meat.
It's like he fell in love with his meat; he ate his meat while working on his bed.
"Meat! I love your meaty, fleshy, bouncy texture! Your curves, color and shape.
I will chew you and swallow you, but I will not spit you out, even if you're raw.
You will be part of me; you will be me; you make me eat and eat, eat and eat.
I am so proud! I happily eat and eat, eat and eat, eat and eat, eat and eat, eat and eat.
Oh, where have you gone, my meat? It hurts without you! I am bleeding all over!
My heart breaks without you... Oh wait, I have eaten you! You're now inside me!
I found more meat! I eat more meat! I eat and eat. But the more I eat, the more it hurts!
But meat is delicious! But I am in pain! I am in agony! But I must eat!
This is my sacrifice to you, meat, for loving me even though I eat you everyday!
It hurts so much I can no longer continue. So I'll have one more bite.
This meat is not meat. It is softer than meat. It is squishier than meat.
It must be tastier than meat, because it's red! Red is a delicious color!"
So he ate and ate, ate and ate, ate and ate, ate and ate, ate and ate.
That was his end; his body incomplete. Nothing is tastier than meat and a heart.

Envy

Crying man bleeds, bearded children watch.

The Fall: Chapter 1. Sloth

I committed suicide.

The people at the mental asylum loathed me. They threw me to this large junkyard. It stinks. They stink. They did not even bother to check whether or not I was properly dead.

I wake up. I stare at the sky. There is a thumb-sized scar on my lower chest. Blood does not flow out. I now understand that a single stab to the chest with a large pen is insufficient to cause death. I must inform Huang Ming about this, but I have to meet up with him first. He is somewhere.

I feel intense pain. Ouch. This sucks. I remain in a lying position. I no longer have any motivation to move. Being hurt, however, is just a mere excuse to be lazy. Huang Ming does not like procrastination. To Huang Ming, the act of delaying a goal is childish.

How can I not stand up and meet Huang Ming due to a mere stab wound? This is ridiculous. I have to move.

I stand up. I walk. But where do I walk to? This junkyard is endless. The smell is foul. Huang Ming will never be able to tolerate this. However, this still can never be used as an excuse to not meet up with Huang Ming. I continue walking.

The weather is very humid. I am sweating like a mad cow. I lie down. Huang Ming will not like this. Huang Ming will go through hell to complete anything that he promised. The very thought of Huang Ming’s dissatisfaction motivates me to stand up and continue walking. I promised Huang Ming to meet him.

The junkyard is filled with very valuable items. I manage to find a white long-sleeved buttoned shirt, a black overcoat, a black necktie, dark grey slacks, and a pair of polished black shoes. All of them are wearable and in near-perfect condition. All of them, however, are mildly stained brown. The owner probably spilled his cup of coffee and got too lazy to wash it. He was probably very rich. I have to tell this to Huang Ming. Huang Ming can change people. Huang Ming will do something about this wretched attitude.

I wear the clothes that I found. I feel great. I continue walking. Huang Ming does not like waiting. The thought of this makes me unconsciously start running.

I look down. There is a white plastic mask just beside my right foot. Such a coincidence! Coincidence does not equate to laziness, therefore, Huang Ming will not be unsatisfied! I wear the mask. The oval mask has two small holes drilled in, allowing me to see. That’s it. Nothing else. No extrusions. It is simply a white mask with two holes. Perfect!

The mask’s shape is very unique; when I wear it, it fits my face tightly and nicely, even though it seems a lot smaller when taken off. This is not an ordinary mask.

I believe that if I were to search for a way out of the junkyard wearing just my undergarments, I would have easily overcome this heat. However, Huang Ming does not like indecency. Huang Ming believes that people should not be lazy to wear proper attire, for it will affect their image. Huang Ming’s image is almighty and awe-inspiring, as he wears clothes even while bathing.

I continue walking, still wearing the business attire. I hear vehicle noises. Loud. Louder. I know that I am near the exit. However, I cannot possibly enter civilization with my foul stench. People will hate me. People might kill me. I will have to find a place to wash up. The thought of this makes me lazier than ever.

I have the nose of a dog, which is a good thing, because I am in disgust of an even fouler stench. I see a child lying down to the left of me. Blankets, a tiny blue mattress, three empty boxes of cereal, three empty bottles of what looks like milk, a large plastic container half-filled with water, and a large box surround him. The child cannot be older than six years old. He is wearing a torn black singlet and blue shorts. He has no shoes on.

I approach him. He sees me. I back off a little due to the horrid smell. Huang Ming will not like this, so I approach him again. I kneel down. I express curiosity through my wonderful facial expression.

“I am thrown here… by my parents.”

I have never been so saddened in my entire life. How can anyone treat their very own flesh and blood like garbage?

“I… want to sleep.”

Again, to Huang Ming, the act of delaying a goal is a childish one. Yet, what is this child’s goal? To laze around long enough to die, or does he really want to continue living, but has no motivation to do so? I believe it’s the latter, as the exit is no more than a hundred meters away.

The child is too afraid to face the world. He fears being called a loser, a sloth.

I remove my mask and give it to him. He wears it.

“You are now reborn.”

“Thank you, sir!”

The child happily runs off. I use the half-filled container to treat myself a hasty bath. Great, the water is clean! My clothes may be wet, but again, Huang Ming bathes with his clothes on.

I am motivated. I run to the exit. There are vehicles moving about. I can easily hitch a ride to Huang Ming’s place, but the thing is, society no longer accepts me. They all hate me; not because of my stench, but due to who I was. It was just one incident that made me like this.

No! Huang Ming will not tolerate procrastination due to past issues! He preaches about looking forward, not backward, but society does not understand; they will still hate me for that one incident. I have to mask my identity. Also, I have to walk to Huang Ming’s place; no one will drive a masked man.

The sky darkens. It rains heavily. Another coincidence! I am all washed up, I hope. Huang Ming must have blessed me with nature’s most delightful shower!

I look directly down. I see another similar white mask. I wear it and head to the right. I stroll down the path.

The Fall: Chapter 2. Gluttony

Huang Ming is the CEO of Huang Ming Inc., a company renowned for producing and selling various electronic devices manufactured through the Huang Ming Technology—a patented engineering concept developed by Huang Ming himself. 

Therefore, I can only meet up with Huang Ming in his office, located at the 78^th floor of the Huang Ming Tower, which is also the highest floor. This tower is located in the nearest town, known as the Huang Ming Town, dedicated to the glorious Huang Ming himself. It is not too far from here.

I am hungry. I have not eaten for days, or weeks. I am unsure of the time I spent unconscious. Nevertheless, I have to eat. Huang Ming believes that food is energy, and an energy-depleted person is an inefficient person. However, edible food is scarce in a place like this.

I walk. I jog. I run. I stop to watch as pigeons fly by. I am getting bored. I walk.

                                                  

I see a very skinny young man, around his early teens, walking opposite of my direction. He is munching on French Fries. He does not eat one at a time; he munches all at once. Within three seconds, the entire box of fries is empty. I ask him if he has another box. I kneel down and beg. He pities me, but refuses to offer another box, although it is obvious that his right hand is holding another box filled with fries.

“I love to eat, but all my friends laugh at me because I was fat! Now I have to starve to be thin, but I can’t help it, I need to eat!”

This poor young man’s story is so sorrowful that I immediately shed a tear. Huang Ming would’ve shed a flood of tears. I remove my mask and hand it to him. He wears it. He shall not face the cruel judgement of society ever again!

“You are now reborn.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, mister! I know that I might seem ungrateful, but I am feeling very lucky!”

He hands me his full box of fries and walks off.

I walk while eating fries. They are very salty. I cannot withstand such abuse of natural salts. How can one enjoy food with this much salt? Salt is used to enhance taste, not completely smother it. Yet, I am a starving man, so I eat. I munch. I chew. I spit. My stomach is bloated, but my tongue is sore and dry. I have energy to walk, yet I do not have energy to think nor speak. Huang Ming will not like this. The world is filled with so many types of delicious, nutritious food, and I have to resort to eating salt. Because of this, I am now intensely dehydrated. However, deep down inside, I am confident that Huang Ming will forgive me for this, for I have rescued the lives of two people today.

I spot an ice cream truck parked on the roadside. There is no one in it. The door is unlocked. I enter the truck. It is very congested, only having room for about a single grown man. A row of metal cabinets, counters, sinks and refrigerators are lined up on my left, and sixteen large rectangular containers, filled with various ice cream flavours, lined up on my right. Sixteen! Who can possibly resist ice cream? Even Huang Ming loves desserts! Desserts make Huang Ming a happy man, provided that Huang Ming does not eat to the point of excessive pleasure! I pick up a metal scooper. I reach for the metal container filled with chocolate ice cream, scoop it up, and eat it.

It is drugged.

I know what drugs taste like. The ice cream is mixed with nicotine, giving it a mildly peppery, slightly spicy flavour. I do not doubt myself. The owner of this truck wants everyone to get addicted to their ice cream! Huang Ming will be devastated at this.

I open the refrigerator. It is nothing but a big, cold empty box, with one giant container, about half my height (and I’m rather tall), filled with vanilla ice cream. I scoop it up and eat it.

I only taste sweetness and heaven, nothing else, no drugs. The owner must have been keeping a container to indulge himself! He abuses the addictive qualities of nicotine to earn enough money to cover the fact that he has been stealing ice cream!

This is unacceptable. Huang Ming hates drugs, but he hates gluttons more. I have to find the bastard responsible for this and teach him a lesson!

I eat just enough ice cream to fill me up, but not too much as not to pleasure myself. Huang Ming believes that if the physical pleasure of eating cannot be controlled, then other pleasures such as wealth, fame, and drugs will overcome us!

I spot another white mask on the counter next to the refrigerator. I wear it.

I leave the truck. I see a man, roughly in his late teens running towards me. He must be the truck’s owner. I will never run. I have to lecture him for his breach of customer trust.

The man appears to be frightened of me, not because of my looks, but because of my insistence to stay and not run away. He bow his head.

“I… have no food at home. I have no family, so I have to work by myself. I am forever a reject due to my poor background. I do not intend to betray the customers’ trust, I only want… food…”

He spoke with sincerity, I can feel that. Huang Ming can definitely feel that as well. I remove my mask and give it to him. He wears it. He no longer will be labelled as “that poor man”, but rather, “the man who works hard”.

“You are now reborn.”

“Thank… you!”

His eyes struggle to cage in his vast amount of tears. He leaves.

However, I am still very thirsty. As I approach the town, I find five filled bottles on the ground to the right of me. Right next to them is a white mask. I pick it up and wear it.

“Ya need a drink?”

A man appears behind me. He seems rather young, probably in his early twenties, but has the look of a seventy-year-old, with saggy eyes, hunched back, veins protruding through the skin. He looks miserable.

“Dis’ like water to me. Some stuffs mixed; makes me high, ya know? High is good.” The bottles are obviously filled with beer, mixed with some drugs.

“None likes me! Dis shit is ma only friend! I go meet ma boss, I kinda high, just one time! One time! She had stupid face and me fly! Now me here, waitin die!”

Because of one incident, this poor man has lost his future, and now turned into a glutton for alcohol and drugs. I committed suicide due to one incident as well, so I can relate to him. Huang Ming will definitely forgive this man. So I remove my mask and give it to him. He wears it.

“You are now reborn.”

“Ya know, I love ya bro! When my high go fly, I go work till I die!”

He leaves. I find a sixth bottle right behind me. It is filled with water. What a coincidence! I finish the entire bottle in five big gulps. Huang Ming must be very proud of me! Huang Ming must be a hap…