Legs tensed, torso braced against the bitter wind. A human silhouette lay against the backdrop of darkness howling with the torment of defeat. Standing on the precipice of doom, all lights are extinguished- signifying a hope that has long yet died, never to return.
Arms inertly hung by my side- shamed by the downfall of valour. I bleed anew with each constant parry against an aerial blade. It hacks and thrusts, eluding my defences- lusting for blood. Each mutilation injects a lethal venom that massacres from within. Moribund, I lay lifeless waiting for a fate that has yet to come.
Face thrashed to the unyielding earth, gasping for the last ounce of air; I ponder my stance against an enemy that cannot be seen, heard, touched or even sensed. Should I have run and never look back? What compelled me to take arms and fight against the inevitable end that was pre-ordained?
What then, if I was to discover using a mirror; the devastating truth that the invisible enemy is none other than myself?
Is fate so wicked that it coerces you to slay yourself? What then, if you were to discover that true death comes not from the wounds, or the venom, or from the torture and agony, but from the submission of defeat and from the trepidations you instilled within yourself?
The chill is suffocating, unforgiving. Each fading breath promises a liberation from this malicious incarceration. I succumb to the engulfing darkness.
It all started with a damn episode of Scrubs I watched with YX. Those avid watchers might recollect a particular episode where Michael J. Fox (one of my favourite actors) made a guest appearance as a Surgeon/Doctor suffering from OCD.
For the entire day and the day after, I began to question myself whether I am indeed an OCD sufferer.
Reasons supporting:
1. I have this stupid habit where I have to check, re-check, and “re-re-checking” certain acts. Take the stove, the iron, or the door for example. I am certain I turned off/switched off/ or locked the respective items; but somehow, this fleeting image comes obtrusively and uninvited that I did otherwise. Worse is, I just have to imagine the worst case scenario. So, that’s accompanied by the house being burned down, or being burgled. It’s not as bad if I am still in the house when this happens, but if I am already in the car for example, then I have to get out, switched off the engine, opened the locks and check the iron. When I get there, I see that I have already switched it off, then; halfway out of the door, came the thought again. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I know I was in front of the iron, but I can’t really remember if I switched it off- or more specifically, I can’t remember the act of switching it off. Again, I am sure I switched it off, but I can’t take the risk. So I have to drag my ass off to do it again- remembering myself that I would visualize the act of ‘clicking’ the switch off. It helps if I can remember the sound as well- it kinda helps to confirm that I switched it off. Usually, I only have to do this once, but sometimes, it happen three or four times and get extremely frustrating. I’ve learned that if it happens more than once, I simply take a picture of the iron being unplugged. At least when I get back to the car, I can check the picture. Sometimes- but rarely, I have to check the picture twice. I think I once had to stop on the emergency lane on the highway to double confirm. But as I said, it’s rare.
2. I get obsessed with cleanliness or hygiene. Two examples, my bed and my clothes. Ok, I have 5 pillows. In my mind, each of them has a specific function or I can only use them after certain pre-requisites are met. So, pillow No.1- Main head pillow. Can only be used after I have bathed recently (within an hour) and I am in my ‘bed’ clothes (will talk about it later). Usually used for sleeping at night. Pillow No.2- Accessory head pillow- to be used when you have bathed recently (within hours) and in my ‘room’ clothes. Pillow No.3- Head pillow- to be used when I have bathed recently, but I was subjected to the outside world which in my mind is still ‘clean’. Like going out to check mail, or just to get something from the store. Pillow No.4- Head pillow- to be used when I am too lazy to bath. Pillow No.5- accessory pillow- Never ever to be used as a head pillow. Usually used as a lower limb support. If you guys ever do manage to come into my room, hope you guys don’t be too offended if I ask you to get up from my bed ok? I just get a bit uncomfortable. Oh, there’s also the bed spread and the blanket throw. That also come attached with a few pre-requisites, but this blog is getting too long already. Let’s just fast-forward to the clothes- I have ‘bed’ clothes- clothes to be worn only in bed (after an immediate shower) and is changed immediately into either ‘room’ clothes (when I am in my room) or ‘outside’ clothes (every other attire that does not fall into the previous two categories). If that’s not bad enough, I also have “clinic” ties and lab coats- to be used only in the Hospitals or Health Clinics. Taking out the rubbish for me is a hassle. The hands have to be completely washed and scrub after touching the garbage bags. You know when you throw the rubbish bag into a slightly smaller container than the beg, the pressure would cause the air to kinda ‘gush’ out from the container- well, if that ‘wind’ hits my face or clothes, I absolutely have to bath or change the attire.
3. Miscellanous- I like things to be neat; but not to such an extent as how you would imagine it. However, I am quite particular about stacked or arranged books though- it have to be stacked according to their length or width; depending on how you stack them. The weird thing is, it only affects my books; sometimes I don’t really care also.
Fortunately, being a medical student; one gains the skill of accessing massive libraries of medical literatures. To cut the story short, while rummaging through the reliable sources, I’ve come to realise that I do not have OCD. It’ll take to long to explain; but if you guys are really interested to know. There is a Yale-Brown Obsessive Compulsive Scale that’ll give you a clue if you are a sufferer.
Nice to know that I’m not a sufferer though. However, my aforementioned habits are in the list of symptoms; but I don’t even qualify for the “risk group of developing OCD” due to the lack of other presenting symptoms. There is an “obsessive with one’s body image and diet” check list though- I guess I better curb that habit before it gets out of hand. :-D
SO, moral of this very lengthy post is. Never watch a show with YX. Hahahahah!!!!
On another note, I haven’t managed to blog about Raya or my brother’s engagement yet though. However, here’s a little sneak preview….
For the entire day and the day after, I began to question myself whether I am indeed an OCD sufferer.
Reasons supporting:
1. I have this stupid habit where I have to check, re-check, and “re-re-checking” certain acts. Take the stove, the iron, or the door for example. I am certain I turned off/switched off/ or locked the respective items; but somehow, this fleeting image comes obtrusively and uninvited that I did otherwise. Worse is, I just have to imagine the worst case scenario. So, that’s accompanied by the house being burned down, or being burgled. It’s not as bad if I am still in the house when this happens, but if I am already in the car for example, then I have to get out, switched off the engine, opened the locks and check the iron. When I get there, I see that I have already switched it off, then; halfway out of the door, came the thought again. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I know I was in front of the iron, but I can’t really remember if I switched it off- or more specifically, I can’t remember the act of switching it off. Again, I am sure I switched it off, but I can’t take the risk. So I have to drag my ass off to do it again- remembering myself that I would visualize the act of ‘clicking’ the switch off. It helps if I can remember the sound as well- it kinda helps to confirm that I switched it off. Usually, I only have to do this once, but sometimes, it happen three or four times and get extremely frustrating. I’ve learned that if it happens more than once, I simply take a picture of the iron being unplugged. At least when I get back to the car, I can check the picture. Sometimes- but rarely, I have to check the picture twice. I think I once had to stop on the emergency lane on the highway to double confirm. But as I said, it’s rare.
2. I get obsessed with cleanliness or hygiene. Two examples, my bed and my clothes. Ok, I have 5 pillows. In my mind, each of them has a specific function or I can only use them after certain pre-requisites are met. So, pillow No.1- Main head pillow. Can only be used after I have bathed recently (within an hour) and I am in my ‘bed’ clothes (will talk about it later). Usually used for sleeping at night. Pillow No.2- Accessory head pillow- to be used when you have bathed recently (within hours) and in my ‘room’ clothes. Pillow No.3- Head pillow- to be used when I have bathed recently, but I was subjected to the outside world which in my mind is still ‘clean’. Like going out to check mail, or just to get something from the store. Pillow No.4- Head pillow- to be used when I am too lazy to bath. Pillow No.5- accessory pillow- Never ever to be used as a head pillow. Usually used as a lower limb support. If you guys ever do manage to come into my room, hope you guys don’t be too offended if I ask you to get up from my bed ok? I just get a bit uncomfortable. Oh, there’s also the bed spread and the blanket throw. That also come attached with a few pre-requisites, but this blog is getting too long already. Let’s just fast-forward to the clothes- I have ‘bed’ clothes- clothes to be worn only in bed (after an immediate shower) and is changed immediately into either ‘room’ clothes (when I am in my room) or ‘outside’ clothes (every other attire that does not fall into the previous two categories). If that’s not bad enough, I also have “clinic” ties and lab coats- to be used only in the Hospitals or Health Clinics. Taking out the rubbish for me is a hassle. The hands have to be completely washed and scrub after touching the garbage bags. You know when you throw the rubbish bag into a slightly smaller container than the beg, the pressure would cause the air to kinda ‘gush’ out from the container- well, if that ‘wind’ hits my face or clothes, I absolutely have to bath or change the attire.
3. Miscellanous- I like things to be neat; but not to such an extent as how you would imagine it. However, I am quite particular about stacked or arranged books though- it have to be stacked according to their length or width; depending on how you stack them. The weird thing is, it only affects my books; sometimes I don’t really care also.
Fortunately, being a medical student; one gains the skill of accessing massive libraries of medical literatures. To cut the story short, while rummaging through the reliable sources, I’ve come to realise that I do not have OCD. It’ll take to long to explain; but if you guys are really interested to know. There is a Yale-Brown Obsessive Compulsive Scale that’ll give you a clue if you are a sufferer.
Nice to know that I’m not a sufferer though. However, my aforementioned habits are in the list of symptoms; but I don’t even qualify for the “risk group of developing OCD” due to the lack of other presenting symptoms. There is an “obsessive with one’s body image and diet” check list though- I guess I better curb that habit before it gets out of hand. :-D
SO, moral of this very lengthy post is. Never watch a show with YX. Hahahahah!!!!
On another note, I haven’t managed to blog about Raya or my brother’s engagement yet though. However, here’s a little sneak preview….
With each faltering step closer to a profession where strict protocols and guidelines reigns supremacy; is a step where one cannot help but to appreciate the moment of the ‘now’. Hasten with the urgency to experience youth at its best, we set our horizons on an east coast island- Tioman; the Jewel of Pahang.
An initial seed of thought rapidly grew into a blossoming tree seemingly endless in fruits of opportunities. The euphoria; which began with my parents’ approval, increased gradually until it reached an all time high on the day of the departure. Heart laden with optimism and an overwhelming thirst for joy, I woke up thinking nothing but the days ahead. The smell of dew hung static in the air, promising a journey that has never been encountered; a slight whispering of the leaves gestured a silent farewell. Shielded by the harsh sun, the dawn proved to be a formidable ally for the next five hours of the journey.
Advice truly fall on deaf ears; more so when the offended ear turns a deaf one. Suffice it to say, the drive to Mersing does not involve speeding 120km/h on the highway. On a number of occasions, the owner of the said deaf ear had to drive at a crawling pace of 30km/h to avoid crashing into oblivion. The slow progress was not an altogether failure, for the surrounding palm oil plantations allowed me to reminisce in simpler times; one where dominating skyscrapers does not play a major role in daily life.
Mersing is to put it simply, a tourist’s town. A huge part of the town is dedicated to serve as a gateway to Tioman. Every conceivable souvenir under the Malaysian sun could be found here. With the recent addition of KFC, McDonalds, and Court’s Mammoth, this rustic town somehow became an idyllic town where east meets west. The picturesque image would sorely test the skills of an accomplished painter; having him frantically in search of some yet undiscovered colour.
We boarded the transfer speed boat in high spirits dampened somewhat with exhaustion. Awakened from a restful slumber two hours later; we discovered that Tioman was astoundingly breathtaking. What one immediately notices is the clarity of the sea; which is never ever to be confused with the murky brown of Port Dickson. At the right angle at just the right moment, one can glimpse the hidden treasure of the land beneath. Standing on the jetty, alone; all thoughts are washed anew with the gentle sea breeze. Couple this with the peaceful lull of the breaking waves, overlooking the ever so blue sky; comes this sudden realization that life is good. I am thankful then of the privileged life I am fortunate enough to experience. As Newton quaintly states “every force has an opposite reaction”, I was also simultaneously besieged by this intense pity and sorrow for those unlucky enough, who will never be able to stand where I was, with little worry and complete contentment.
The sand burns pleasantly hot underneath our fatigue feet. We quickly checked into our booked chalet and rest for the remainder of the day- recuperating for the next unknown hurdle. It is probably worth mentioning that Tioman is not comprised of a single concentrated developed area while the rest of it remained untouched. The fact is, Tioman is divided into regions; each with its own elusive beauty and splendour.
Culinary experience in Panuba Inn was immensely satisfying. Carefully planned cuisine range from local dishes to exotic delicacy. The food by itself was fabulous, unite this with a candlelight dinner on the beach facing the sunset; and you have yourself a bite of heaven worth dying for.
Panuba was blessed enough with a clean, clear blue-turqoise sea water and a white sandy beach. During our stay, swimming became our most favourite pastime. The clear water provided ample opportunities to spy on the local habitats as well as the marine echo life. Sheltered by the shade of a coconut tree, my mind grew tiny ‘epiphanous’ legs and wandered away. Studying in Kuala Lumpur with its bountiful distraction is probably the epitome of modern living. In spite of this, have you ever thought ‘my God! I am living in KL, I am truly auspicious?’ Bogged down by minute worries, damaged by the inconsistency of emotions, bled by the unrelenting assault of mind and body; we walked ‘zombified’ into a routine that were never supposed to be ours. That immeasurable, infinitesimal, incomprehensible second built a barricade strong enough to withstand the tsunami of life for years to come.
Lucky enough to acquire two bicycles, we seized the opportunity and cycled into remote areas of the island. We were astounded by the numbers of natural settlers on the island; who appeared to live quite comfortably with their surroundings. Since the tourism sector is the main source of income, the roads were littered with souvenirs and memorabilia that were priced very cheaply. The cycling was much more taxing that we anticipated; a testament to our cardiovascular system. The hills were as high as two storey buildings, and as steep. Prior to the event, we were instructed not to cycle on those hills. Thus, with much sweating and puffing, the hills seems to be- literally, a hurdle that we overcome.
To tell you a secret, I always admired those shows where men and women were able to jog across the beach heading towards some unknown location. I always thought it was something cool. Hence, with dreary eyes and limbs which were not fully awake, I manage to stumbled across the bed and put on my running shoes. I must say that there’s something different in jogging in the morning. Could it be the atmosphere? The lack of people? Or is it the light? I know not; but jogging across that beach instilled that sense of tranquillity that I long for. It was not easy however, the sand crumbled underneath your every step and somehow managed annoyingly to seek solace in my shoe; but that is irrelevant compared to the surge of serendipitous feeling that I acquired that morning. I found a spot amongst the rock, sat, and contemplated on the direction of my life whilst watching the sunrise. I implore you now ladies and gentlemen, if you have not seen a sunrise. Do so now. Next morning, wake up, find a precipice, and look at it. It a glorious sight to behold. The feeling I had then had to be experienced, I let it fall on you ladies and gentlemen to describe it after you’ve witnessed this simple natural act.
Not satisfied with the normal fish flora, we went in search for something more extravagant. We were rewarded with an unusual experience that took place in the Marine Park. We snorkelled to a perfect hideaway, opened our private store of Gardenia and fed the fish. By George, the fish! The moment the bread touched the water, a swarm swallowed us whole. There were moments when the fish ‘ticklishly’ nibbled on our fingertips, and on occasion, our stomachs; immediately causing a spastic attack. What was interesting is the way they seem so relaxed an unafraid. One could lay perfectly still, and have the school of fish swim by you as though you were nothing more than cheap furniture; something not worth a second glance. (;-D)
Snorkelling, much akin to swimming, involved activities that are much further away from the beach. Although the water is crystal clear, one is unable to see the bottom of the floor bed. Such is the clarity and the depth of the sea. It is something that can only be visualised once one see the darkness engulfing the surrounding area beneath our floating limbs. However petrified we are, we persisted with our underwater exploration. It is here then, ladies and gentlemen that we discovered the pearl for this elective. The corals were AMAZING! Words nor capitals nor bold letters can truly capture the image that I am abysmally trying to describe.
To say that they were different in sizes is an understatement bordering on senility. A combination of their sizes, colours, shapes, the surrounding light, the natural habitat, the fish, the sea urchins, etc all contributed to this little piece of miniature heaven tucked away in a hidden alcove.
All is not well in heaven however. The scorching sun finally exerts its toll on our precious but very much unprotected skin. By the second day, we resemble an overcooked lobster. We started to peel. I can tell you now, that it is a very unpleasant sensation indeed; to have one scratch oneself, and have bits of oneself scratched off. It took us two days to have our backs and legs marginally touchable.
One could not help but to admire the serenity and sanctuary that mother earth in her infinite wisdom choose to bestow. Even now, several months after the elective, I can still vividly see the image as clearly as yesterday. Every sight, sound and taste cherished. Locked surreptitiously away in a corner of my mind, I would cling selfishly to this unwavering ally who we will en masse brave the nameless tempest of uncertainty evermore.
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