Yours Truly

My photo
is behind you.
I am a confused, dangerous little girl. And I bite. Fear me.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Essay

Another post, because I forgot to add it to the last one. I had told Aaron long ago I'd let him read this essay, but I got too lazy and I procrastinate. Posting it up here really saves me the trouble. (:

A/N: I stole; 'invisible monster called cancer', 'impossibly sunny' and the little quote about the guardian angel.

The rest is all mine, all the ideas and everything. It didn't turn out to be what I had originally planned, but blehhhhh. I don't care anymore. I'll rant about all my ideas for this piece of crap some other day. This was the notes teacher provided us with:

Lina and I – good friends – since childhood – in village – same school – walked together – Lina fell sick – hospitalised – blood tests – cancer – visited her – held her hand – motionless – I cried – no use – gone – in my memory.


And he didn't let me change the name. Yekk. Below is what I churned out. And without further ado, I coldly present to you,


Memories

Lina and I had always been good friends. In fact, we were better than that. We were the best of best friends. Since childhood, from the very first second our pre-school teacher made us say, “Hi” to each other, we were inseparable. It was not just because we had the same name – okay, maybe at that time it was – but our personalities complemented one another’s. We had only fought once in the entire span of eight years, and even then, it was just a child’s squabble over a missing crayon. Our birthdates were just a day apart, Lina being the one who entered this world first.

The villagers all dubbed us as “the twins” of our village, a nickname we quite happily embraced. Living in the same area, attending the same schools and always ending up in the same classes entitled us to walk to school (and everywhere else), together every day. If there was a day when either of us was sick, the other one would stay by her bed in her room and refuse point-blank to attend school. It was like our tradition. A tradition that always made our mothers scream in frustration and our fathers amused. But we did not mind. We were happy. And everything was fine.

So, when Lina fell sick one day, I automatically opted to dump my school bag in my room, rush over to Lina’s side and glue myself there. However, my mother barred me at the door, a stern and determined (almost maniacal) glint in her eyes. She sent me back to my room to pick up my horrid school bag. I snuck out through my bedroom window and wound up at Lina’s place, anyway.

That day, Lina was looking fine, save for the tissues stuck up her nostrils. We laughed at each other’s appearances. Her, at my mangled hair from crawling through some shrubbery and I, at the line of mucus dangling from her nose. It was hilarious, and we were still the cheerful twins of the village.

The days drew on and on, but Lina did not get any better. In fact, her condition grew worse. She started having difficulties in breathing and her tanned skin became pale. I was worried to the point of stumbling around aimlessly when I was not with Lina. There was no other way; Lina had to be hospitalised.

I visited Lina the very next day. She was in a small, white room and had these funny-looking machines around her with some transparent tubes stuck to her arms and face. I did not know what those machines were for at that point in time, so I managed a tiny giggle upon entering her ward. My giggles were contagious as Lina started giggling too, and before we knew it, our laughter was ricocheting around the whole room. Little did I know, that was probably the last time I heard her real laughter ringing in my ears.

A few days later when I visited Lina, I saw many solemn and po-faced people all dressed in white at the foot of her bed. I learned later that they were doctors and nurses. They looked so sad that I got worried that they might be making Lina sad and ran over to her protectively. I sent a little glare in their direction before turning to face Lina. When my eyes landed on her, I got the shock of my life. Lina’s skin was pallid and her once bright, sparkling russet brown eyes were now a dull, murky brown. The first thought that crossed my mind was that I was in the wrong room, that this was a different Lina, but when our parents entered the room after me, I knew that it was not so. My first impulse was to scream and flee from the room, but for Lina’s sake I cracked a smile and made an attempt at a joke. The corners of Lina’s lips lifted slightly.

When our parents caught sight of the doctors and nurses, the atmosphere in the room suddenly turned grim and tense. The air was so heavy; I nearly suffocated. My mother pulled me away gently and tried to make me go to school. You see, I have not attended school for weeks now, my mother having given up completely after a few days of persuasion and nagging with no success whatsoever. I wondered why she wanted to start trying now. Of course, we got into an argument and I burst into tears, but Lina spoke up and silence ensued at once. She had, in a raspy and weak voice, threatened me that if I did not attend school, she would not come to my birthday party. So I grudgingly let myself be dragged off to school, staring accusingly at Lina with tears in my eyes. She merely smiled and gave a little wave of her hand. And that was why I did not hear the news until very much later.

Lina had been diagnosed with lung cancer. They had done some blood tests and x-ray scans and it was confirmed. She was in the fourth stage of lung cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy. I flew in a daze to her ward, where I sat snivelling for ages. I remember accusing her of breaking the promise we had made at the tender age of six, where we promised each other we would die together. Being too weak to speak, she scrawled some words on a piece of paper. I took the paper and brushed my tears away. “Hey, no one said I was gonna die yet!” I read. I looked up to find her smiling ever so serenely and, despite the fact that her head was balding, her skin taut, her cheeks sunken and dark rings under her eyes, Lina looked like an angel. Tears filled my eyes and this time, I did not try to stop them from falling. I threw my arms around her neck as she patted my head weakly. Visiting hours were soon over and no matter how much of a best friend I was, the nurses still chased me out with their clipboards, anyway.

It was Lina’s birthday, that day. We hardly ever practised the act of giving each other birthday presents, but I had decided to give her one; a simple one. I purchased her favourite chocolate ice-cream with some rainbow toppings and skipped to the hospital, humming the Happy Birthday song. The first thing I saw when I slid the door open were those white, unsmiling doctors. I ignored them and focused on the ice-cream, licking off the dripping parts and hoping Lina would not mind her half-melted birthday present. My eyes wandered to the sombre group of doctors and I was surprised to see Lina’s parents in a tight embrace. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw them crying, their faces distorted in anguish. At once, my eyes flickered to Lina’s bed and I felt a lump in my throat. There she lay motionless, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber and her hand dangling lifelessly by her side. My body went numb and I vaguely felt the melting ice-cream slip out of my hand and fall to the ground, staining the white floor with brown. However, the only thing my mind was registering at that moment was Lina’s form. Devastated, I clutched at her cold hand, desperately searching for any form of life. It was no use; there was none. Tears sprung to my eyes. Lina was gone.

I spent that night screaming myself hoarse at the invisible monster called cancer. It made Lina break our promise. It took Lina away. I cried and cried until there were no more tears left in me. I then took refuge in my bedroom and there I stayed until Lina’s funeral.

It was impossibly sunny on the day of Lina’s funeral. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue and birds flew through the sky without a care in the world. I questioned the heavens; why were they not crying? Why were they not spilling tears of remorse for Lina? It did not seem fair. How could Mother Nature be so happy while Lina lay dead in her coffin? It made me angry. We were only eleven at that time. Lina was innocent. Why did it have to be her?

It took me weeks to get over Lina’s passing away and by then, the twins of the village were no more. I was the only Lina in the whole village. I could not stand it. I moved away at the first chance I got.

Now, years have passed and I am back in my old village. Standing in front of Lina’s grave, I reminisced all the good times we had when we were children. The wind blew playfully around my figure and I laid some daisies upon her tombstone, to which this day I still remember the daisy being her favourite flower. Looking up towards the heavens, I no longer felt any hatred. I knew why the heavens were not crying that day. I had not lost my best friend that time; instead, I had gained another angel watching over me. Shielding my eyes from the blinding sun, I smiled.

“Well, happy birthday, Lina.”

FIN.


Copyright © Christine Ling 2008

Well, thanks for reading.

Monday, June 23, 2008

So. A Blog.

[insert gasp of utter shock in here]

I, Christine, have descended to the lowly level of blogging...! (jkjk)

Though I don't have anything to blog about.

But where else can I show all the pretty layouts I find? :3

And so, a blog has come into existence. Bask in my its glory.

I like this layout. It features the feather of Photoshop. I love photoshop. (: Ho ho ho.

...yes, I know I'm boring. So Sue Me.

But all the same, the links are uuuggglyy. D: That makes me sad.

I'm sad.

Very sad.

Woe is The Christine.

I want KitKat.

KitKat is yummy.

It's my new love. -sparkles- *w*

So I'm happy because I have KitKat. (: -munch-

But KitKat likes to make me fat. D:

That's sad, too.

I'm sad.

Very sad.

Oh woe.

Conclusion: Christine has severe mood-swings. Approach with caution. ♥