Isaiah n Terence
Loneliness is the feeling of being alone, be it physical, emotional, or spiritual. It is a strong feeling, strong enough that it can even drive people into psychotic episodes and suicidal fits of rage. The pain that it can bring drives down right into our souls and throwing us into total darkness.
I would like to quote what Orson Welles once said. He said that we are born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone. The moment that we create illusions for ourselves is called life. Perhaps that is why we feel lonely even in that particular moment that we are supposed to create illusions for ourselves to escape loneliness. Enough of facts, let's go on to personal experience.

In this wonderful journey called life, we are filled with many emotions which are inevitable, and among these emotions, the emotion that stings me the most is loneliness. Nobody can journey their life alone, utterly. When I was a little boy, I would subconsciously put myself into other people's shoes. I used to ask myself, "What would I feel to be rich like Tommy?" Questions like 'What would I feel to be the smartest student in school like Edward?' would automatically pop out in my head. The great thing about this habit of mine is I always feel good, well almost all the time when I pick on a pair of clean shoes to put myself in. The bad thing is if I choose the wrong shoes to put myself in, I feel just as bad as how those shoes that have stepped on poo, and that smell that irritates your nose so much that it stops you from breathing cannot describe nor parallel the pain that stings your mind, your heart, your soul, your spirit known as loneliness. For me to watch a person suffering from loneliness is like watching a patient dying from cancer. After all, some cancer patients are lonely too. For I can feel the stinging pain of loneliness, I always had a soft spot for loners.

Among all the feelings I've experienced either putting myself into others' shoes or based on my personal experience, loneliness is the worst feeling I could ever imagine. It is worse than any physical harm can do to me and mind you, I have had teeth knocked out, scars on my back for falling from my motorbike, and even my penis circumcised, and the list goes on. It is also worse than any emotional conflicts I have ever encountered for I have been humiliated, embarrassed, yelled at, ignored, told I was no good, being insulted, given hurtful nicknames and the list goes as long as a receipt you would receive when u empty the goods in a shopping mall. Life on this planet is never easy and that is why we can move on only with the help of others, of those who care. Going through life alone, walking down the paths of darkness in a one-man journey, is not totally impossible, but your mind, your soul, your heart will definitely and repeatedly tell you to leave this world and find friends in another world instead.

From my point of view, a loner is just a nice person lost in the crowd. A shy, quiet person who has not found himself, lack of confidence or was not given any chance to join the crowd, in short, ignored. I strongly advise each and every citizen of planet Earth to reach out for these lonely people who can be nice and talented in several ways yet to be discovered instead of cornering ourselves with our own assembly gossiping about how weird, odd, eccentric, inscrutable and dreadful that loner is, which can be hurtful and demotivating. No matter how busy you are, you can still make time for yourself. So, why not for others who need them? Donating a few minutes of your bathing time or time for meals would not mean that you cannot bathe, eat, breathe or continue what you wanted to do. It only means less of it, and a little for others. If you can not make time for others, one day, nobody is gonna make time for you, and thereafter, you will be thrown in the valleys of darkness, accompanied by the excruciating, crucifying pain called loneliness.


-Fan Kiat
Isaiah n Terence

There was once a fox who was walking along a vineyard when he saw the most beautiful and perfect grapes hanging from the highest vine. He stopped and stared at them with longing in his eyes. They were round and plump and had a beautiful sheen as the sun reflected off their skins; just ripe for picking. They were practically begging him to take them down, to fill his empty belly with their juicy goodness. Like an insect drawn to a venus flytrap, the fox walked in a trance and squeezed through the fences barring him and the grapes and stood directly underneath them.

When he got closer, he could see that the grapes were even better and more alluring then before. He thought that they were flawless, but they were even more perfect than that. He jumped, but he didn’t get to bite the grapes. He jumped again, this time with a running start, but still he could not reach it. It was just too high for him.

A robin landed on the fence beside him and looked at his actions amusingly. “Fox,” she said, to get the fox’s attention. “Why is it that you try to get those grapes, even if you know you can’t?”

“Dear Robin, those grapes are what I yearn for; what I want, no, what I need! I feel as if I was born to be with them, and they with me,” the fox replied. He was in a sorry state; his legs were shaking and his heart throbbed in his chest. The robin looked at him with pity in her small round eyes. She shook her head. “You were once a cunning fellow, Fox. But now I see you have gone and become a fool.”

“Say what you will. You do not understand how I feel,” the fox said, and continued jumping. The robin watched him and his antics for the rest of the day. When the Sun went down and day became night, the fox was too tired, torn apart by his plight. He lay down on the ground shivering, barely able to breathe, his legs no longer able to support him.

“Dear Robin,” he wheezed through constricted breaths. “I know you are still there, even if I cannot see you any longer. I beg of you, won’t you please fly over there and pluck the grapes down for me?”

The robin was surprised, for the fox was a proud fellow who wouldn’t bend his head any lower than horizontal. For a moment, she felt compelled to help the fox out of pity. But her instincts took over, and she knew the better choice to take. “I do not trust you. You have already eaten many of my kind before, and I shall take pleasure in watching you fall.”

“No, please…” the fox pleaded, unable to even carry his head up to look at her.

“I shall listen no more,” the robin said flatly, “lest I be swayed by your honey-coated poison.” And she took off that night, crying to herself, for the robin was a kind soul, who dearly wanted to help the fox but there have been many robins who were tricked and eaten by foxes in the past, and so it came as a lesson passed from robin to robin; that foxes should never be trusted. Had she known that that fox was truly sincere, she would have helped him.

And so the fox was left alone to die, with only his beloved grapes hanging right above him. He swore that, if he could jump just one more time, he would have gotten it but alas, he didn’t have the strength for it anymore. He stared and stared, until they were the only things he could see, and then they were no more.


-Terence

Isaiah n Terence

“Look out!” A horn blared; tires skidded across the road, leaving their marks as a break was harshly slammed. A single car lost control, a single person was caught in an accident.

*****

A beeping sound from a machine could be distinctively heard over the hushed murmuring of the people around me. I opened my eyes as I slowly regained my consciousness. I was unable to recognize my surroundings. There were several people in white coats looking down at me with concerned faces. I turned my head and saw peculiar wires attached to my body; connecting me to various machineries found in the room. “Where am I?” I asked, to nobody in particular. I didn’t want to hear any answers. I was looking for you, but you weren’t there. I started to panic. I tried to get up, but I found myself strapped to the bed that I was lying down on. My head started throbbing and there was an unbearable pain. The beeping sound became louder and more erratic. I needed to get out of here. I needed to find you. I struggled even more against the straps that bound me when suddenly someone jabbed me with a syringe. My vision blurred again as I dosed off into a dreamless slumber.

When I woke up again, I was alone in another room. Well, not alone, per se. There was a nurse there, but she paid no heed to me. My body felt sluggish, and it was still restrained to the bed. The moment I tried to struggle again an alarm rang and several people rushed in. Amongst them was a very exhausted couple. Again, there was an unbearable pain and I started to scream. Someone attempted to sedate me again, but the tired woman shouted over my screams, “Stop it! Can’t you see she doesn’t like being restrained like that? If you let her go, she will be fine!” After some consideration, I was cautiously released from my binds. The pain had subsided somewhat, and now I took the time to scrutinize the concerned lady in front of me. After what must have felt like forever, I popped the question, “Who are you?” She paled and seemed like she was about to faint. Her husband, I assumed, came by her side and hugged her as she started to sob. Then, he turned to me and told me that they were my parents. I stared blankly at them for a while. I had no recollection of them whatsoever. Apparently, I had lost my memories in an accident, something about a concussion to the head. They told me not to worry because I would get my memories back sooner or later. After a while, I agreed to follow them back to their house.

Even though my parents cared for me in whatever way possible, I still felt like a stranger. I could only remember that I needed to tell you something, something very urgent and important; something that I would come to regret if I didn’t say it.

I couldn’t cope with school anymore, and was forced to drop out. Every day was painful and frightening, having to live such a fake life that wasn’t mine to live. I figured that I could somehow get your attention by writing poems with you in mind. I started to write poems and publish them online at first. I shared my poems with anyone willing to listen and they, in turn, spread it amongst their acquaintances. Within months, my website became one of the most widely viewed websites in the world. Still I didn’t hear a single word from you. I started writing for an international magazine and became well known but still, I didn’t hear from you. Years flew by, and my poems had captivated the hearts of millions around the world. Yet, you weren’t one of them.

I had been writing these poems of my love for you for 15 years straight but there was still no reply at all. All I wanted was a glimpse at you; a mere word with you.

By the 16th year, my memories finally returned and I burst into uncontrollable tears because I remembered… that you died 16 years ago. I recalled everything clearly: Just the day before your funeral, I wanted to tell you my feelings; that I loved you, but I just didn’t know how. I told myself, “I’ll tell him tomorrow, for sure.” But that tomorrow never came. Looking down at your pale body the next day, how could I accept that you were simply taken from me in a traffic accident? I lost my mind that night as they buried your body; and I stood in the middle of the road while dressed in funeral clothes. I was involved in an accident in my pathetic attempt to meet you and to finally tell you how I felt; but even so, I wasn’t able to. Somehow, I had survived with minimal injuries and lost my memories.

I accepted the fact that I couldn’t ever see you anymore, much less speak with you but I still loved you. I continued writing poems in hopes that someday I can get my feelings through to you. Maybe if I piled them high enough, would you be able to read them from up above?



-Terence