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.

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

“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 16^th 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

Maybe I’ll be born into a well to do family. Maybe my parents will be beautiful people, wearing themselves out to serve others. Maybe I’ll be the younger brother that the daughter of the family always wanted. My family will shower me with love and fulfill my every need. My sister will spend so much time with me, shaping my thoughts and behavior. My parents will allow me to learn a musical instrument, and I will delve deep into the world of music and come to enjoy music as a part of my life. They will teach me the rights and wrongs of the world, and to be kind to those less fortunate than I am, even going so far as to give me a name which symbolizes kindness and forgiveness. My parents will send me to a good school, as they know the importance of a good education.

I’ll grow up into a healthy boy and start to attend school, where I will make many new friends. I will come to like and dislike some teachers. Then, I will have my own group of friends and I will do everything with them; eating, playing games, studying, laughing, crying, and so much more. And then we’ll graduate from primary school, where we’ll be separated when enrolling in secondary school but I won’t cry one bit. I will continue on my secondary education, eventually forgetting some of my friends and meeting new ones who will come to replace them. I will make some rivals in school, and we will encourage each other to study hard and achieve good results in the exams. I will be entrusted with some leadership posts in clubs, and strive to make my club better than all the others. I will get my own brothers and sisters in school and we’ll be inseparable; staying over at each others' homes, going on holidays together, and spending our days happily together. Maybe one day I will have a fated encounter with a girl and start going out with her. I will have so much fun spending time with her, helping each other out, and eventually falling in love. Maybe I’ll get teased by my friends sometimes but we will just laugh it off.

Maybe I will represent my school in a competition. I will work very hard and make my school proud, even if I lost. Maybe I will represent my nation to another country, showing off our wonderful culture and hospitality to the world. Maybe some teachers will disagree with the way I do things and try to punish me. Maybe there will be teachers who will vouch for me too. Of course, there will be my group of friends who will have my back. In my final year of secondary school, maybe my friends and I will pull all-nighters together to study for the final exams. Maybe we will not get a chance to study much but joke with each other instead but none of us will come to regret that in the end. I might break down and cry on the last day of secondary school as I will eventually be separated from my alternate family, or maybe I will face that day with a smile on my face as I hug each of my friends and wish them all the best in their life. I will thank all my teachers for tolerating and teaching me for through my secondary school life. I will try to spend as much time as I can with my friends before they leave to continue their tertiary education.

Maybe my friends and I will all score with flying colours when the results are announced, maybe some of us might miss our targets and cry but no matter what happens we will still look forward and face the world. Eventually, all of us will go our separate ways and meet new people. Even so, I will still remember them for making my school life a joy. Maybe I will be the last person to enroll in a college where I will spend the next five or more years pursuing a degree or masters certificate. Maybe I will miss my friends terribly, or maybe I will find new friends to spend my time with.

Maybe I will become a world renowned doctor, travelling around the globe to save lives. Maybe I will be the most sought-after engineer, creating wonders and mega structures for the world to marvel at. Maybe I will be an officer in the army, risking my life to protect the country I love so much. No matter what I become, though, I will hold strong to my principles in life and become a good person like my parents want me to. I will work hard and get the recognition of my superiors. Eventually, I will be one of the leaders at my workplace. Maybe there will be some people who will try to pull me down or slander me but I will not hold a grunge against them. I will keep working honestly.

Maybe I will get engaged and married to my high school sweetheart after working for a few years. I will buy a beautiful house near my parents’ and we will live happily. I will become a father one day and I will teach my children to be kind and strong, to be sincere in their work, to be honest in their words and to persevere while in hardships. I will watch as they grow up to be magnificent people and meet great friends.

Some day, I will retire from my work. Maybe I will take up music then, composing songs only for my family to hear. Maybe I’ll join philanthropic societies, and volunteer to help others. Maybe I will publish books for the world to read, stories of my experiences or epics from the depths of my mind, where fantastic things happen. Eventually, I have to rely on my children to take care of me as age would have taken its toll on me. Maybe I will pass on with a smile on my face, leaving no regrets in the world. Yes, that seems about right. Maybe I will do that.

-Terence

Last week, my grandmother invited my family and I over to her house for dinner. I was excited to go there because my grandmother was an excellent chef at traditional cuisine. Besides that, whenever she invites us over instead of us going there without her invitation, she has probably prepared, or is preparing a truly luxurious meal and will go out of her way to make some of our favourite dishes. It was my luck, that night, that she decided to cook the traditional nasi lemak while adding her own twist to it, which was my favourite Malaysian dish.

When we arrived there, we were gracefully ushered inside by my grandmother's personal maid. The dishes and cups were all laid out neatly on the table and we were asked to wait a moment while the food was being prepared.

Shortly after that, the first dish was served. It was also the main food, nasi lemak. It was hand-made-home-prepared nasi lemak. It was the bona fide nasi lemak of nyonya origin. I can't begin to describe just how delicious it was. It was soft... yet chewy. It had a sweet smelling pandan fragrance. Even the steam that wafted from it screamed delicious. I sank my spoon into the rice, lifted it up and put it into my already watering mouth. I closed my eyes as I savoured the taste, texture and aroma. I chewed ever so slowly and my body tingled as I swallowed it. I had to exercise great willpower to prevent myself from taking another mouthful just yet, as more dishes were being served within moments.

Then, there were the customary anchovies. I mean, which nasi lemak is complete without them? They were crispy and crunchy, fried to a beautiful golden brown. Even as the plate was being laid down on the table, I could hear the crispy layer scraping each other and the sound of the sizzling oil, creating a most pleasing melody to all present at the table. I picked one up slowly, placed it between my incisors and bit down carefully. Half of it landed on my tongue, and immediately I could taste the slightly salty flavour of the fish as well as it's satisfying crunch as I chewed it more.

The next thing on the menu was the fried water convolvulus. In local language, the kangkung. It doesn't seem as impressive when called kangkung, does it? However, the taste is still the same, and so goes the saying "that which we call a rose would be just as sweet by any other name", or "that which we call a kangkung would be just as tasty by any other name", considering the situation. At any rate, they were simply delicious. They were crunchy, as they should be, and I don't know how or what my grandmother did to make them different from others, but they were very flavourful. Not to mention that they were not only extremely fresh, but they were right out of the frying pan to boot. These kangkung were the cream of the crop, the best I've eaten so far, that's for sure.

I caught a whiff of the next dish even before it came out of the kitchen. I shook with excitement from just the thought of it: my grandmother's famous specialty sambal. It could make me scream for water, yet I just can't help myself from pouring more on my rice or even eat it on it's own. It is that delicious. As an added bonus, there were king prawns added into it that time, not that I fancy those crustaceans very much. Of course, there were a lot of onions in the sambal, cooked to perfection: soft, yet still able to provide a bite. The sambal itself was the thing I loved most. It was unimaginably spicy, as always, slightly sweet and also a little salty. It had a beautiful red coloured surface owing to the oil on it. A perfect match for any meal. Having sambal as one of Malaysia's primary side dishes is one of the reasons why I love this country so much.

I heard the next dish being fried in the wok as I impatiently twiddled my thumbs while waiting. The scent of it only made me more hungry, as my patience slowly edged to its limit. Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was taken out of the kitchen. A plate full of fried chicken, cooked a la nyonya with all its spices. I felt like I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms from all the waiting. My hands were shivering and sweating, my eyes eyed the plate of chicken like how a predator would when waiting for its prey. I licked my lips as the dish was finally placed on the table. The chicken was still sizzling hot, so hot in fact that a small area above it became distorted. It was dark brown, with bits of garlic scattered on top of it. I took a piece of chicken and put it on my place. The moment my fork pierced the crispy skin, its juice oozed out. I couldn't wait any longer, and brought it to my mouth to be relished in all its glory.

I arranged the various food on my plate. It was a work of fine art; the rice in the middle, a large helping of the sambal to its left, some kangkung on top of it, just beside that were the anchovies and on the right was a piece of fried chicken. I was on cloud nine just thinking about how lucky I was to be able to eat food like these on a regular basis. I ate whatever was on my plate and then took seconds and more top-ups after that until every single dish was licked clean off their plates. I was not surprised that I could eat so much, since no matter how full I felt, once I poured another spoonful of sambal on my plate, everything seemed to go down just fine. Let's not count how many glasses of water I drank that night, too.

I stood outside a lively theme park and waited for my girlfriend. I was there about twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time but that didn’t matter. I was really looking forward to tonight. A few minutes later, I saw her walking towards me and frowning. “Oh, come on! Let me be the early one for once,” she said jokingly before winking at me. She strolled over to my side and held my hand. “Shall we?” she said and I did a slight bow before leading her inside.

My girlfriend and I went for a date together. We strolled around the amusement park and talked jovially with each other. We sat on many rides together like the roller coasters and the thrill houses. I even won a doll for her. I wished that time would have just stopped then and there, having her smiling face right beside mine as we ate ice cream, sat down on a bench and looked at the night sky. As time passed and slowly edged into midnight, I suggested we go on the Ferris wheel for our last ride before calling it a night and going back.

We entered the gondola of the Ferris wheel in silence. We both knew what it meant when I said ‘our last ride’, for I was going overseas the next day to further my studies and I didn’t know how long it would be before I could see her again. She sat down beside me and gripped my hand tightly. She leaned her head on my shoulder and she started sobbing silently. I caressed her hair gently, wishing more than ever for time to freeze. “I wish we could always be together,” she mumbled. We sat in cold silence except for her occasional weep as the capsule started to move up slowly. We were alone in the gondola and I had a strong urge to just break down into tears myself.

Just as we were at the apex of the Ferris wheel there was a strong jerk and a loud snapping sound. The gondola stopped moving and swayed in place. I peeped outside and regretted doing so. We were falling down; rather, the whole Ferris wheel was falling down sideways. A sudden feeling of vertigo overtook me and I brought my gaze away from the outside. I hugged my companion tightly and braced for impact. Within seconds, we crashed into a nearby tower and we stopped falling for a while. It seemed like we were safe for the time being. We were afraid; both of us were shivering. The Ferris wheel could crash at any moment and it would take at least a few hours for help to reach us since we were at the highest point.

Suddenly I just felt very nostalgic. I started talking to her about how we met, about all the time we spent together, and about the small things we shared. I could feel a tear sliding down the side of my face. My voice quivered as I spoke. She listened to me as I talked for what seemed like hours. I needed to be strong, for she was already in tears herself. “Don’t say that,” she choked through her tears. “We’ll survive this together, right?”

I could only nod my head as there was another loud jerk again. There was simply no way for us to escape. Staying inside would lead us to our doom, jumping out would also lead us to our doom. I saw the lights from the fire and rescue team; they were nearby. The Ferris wheel shook violently again this time and for the last time I hugged her. We began to slowly accelerate downwards, aided by gravity and the weight of the ride. “Now we’ll always be together,” she said again suddenly. We were finally falling down.

“Hang on kids! We’re coming!” shouted one of the fire and rescue personnel. Suddenly my whole body sprang to life again. Within a second, I picked my girlfriend up in my arms, much to her surprise. She was as light as a feather to me. “I’m sorry,” I said. I kicked open the door with my leg and jumped out. At the furthest distance, I tossed her with all my strength to the man who was trying to rescue us. He managed to catch her. I saw her eyes widen as she screamed my name. The distance between us grew as I was plummeting downwards. I was free falling down a 14-storey high Ferris wheel and the chance of my survival from the fall was completely nil. I was quite at peace, as I could only look up to see the fire and rescue personnel holding her back from jumping down after me.

I started to shout, “I’m sorry. I really wish we could be together forever. I really do. Thank you for spending all those times with me. You really brought back colour and meaning to my life again. I love-“

My brain perceived me hitting the ground. My voice was cut off mid-sentence as I felt my whole body become limp; or rather I couldn’t feel my body at all. Red colour overtook my vision, and I couldn’t see anything anymore. The last thing I saw with my mind’s eye was the smiling face of my girlfriend. Then, everything went black.

-Terence