Where I Am Now

I'm still struggling. What else is new? I give up - I really do. Shit job, shit pay, weekends spent doing nothing. If I had the energy, I'd really go through with killing myself. It's not fair that I have to put up with this while it just gets worse and worse for me. My feet are burning, my whole body aches, I stress even in my sleep - I'm exhausted. And these strangers, they're drilling and hammering away in this house while I'm writing this. I don't even get a quiet weekend to myself. My life is a fucking joke.

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My cat has brain damage. I can't bear to look at him now. I wish they would've put him down. It's no way to live.

On Studies

It looks like I'm stuck with this place. I can't afford to go anywhere decent. A semester at LaSalle in Singapore costs as much as my entire three year degree.

Honestly, if I knew it was going to be this bad, I would've done something else: accounting, business - anything other than art.

A brief summary of Limkokwing so far:

- Severe staff shortage
- Disgusting people
- Terrible facilities
- Poor organization

You just don't feel like you're getting your money's worth. You constantly feel like all of this is tailored to someone with brain damage. All my classes are basically, "OK, here, go do this," and you just bring your progress over the semester. Barely any tutorials whatsoever. It's just so stupid that I - a novice - can score a 4.0 every semester and the only thing I do are the assignments. I just don't feel like I'm learning anything.

The people are trash. They go on about multiculturalism but they neglect to mention that most of the people that come here are from all these failed states. They're rude, they're loud and and they vandalize campus property. Last semester, we waited around until 11 for class to start because the lecturer had to go bail out a student who thought it was a good idea to go clubbing on a Wednesday night without his student card. And as you can expect, the assignments they turn in are always shit.

And of course, the university keeps passing them. It doesn't matter if they've never once turned up for class; it doesn't matter if they're selling drugs on campus; it doesn't matter if they never submitted any of their assignments. As long as they have the cash.

Honestly, I'm just so tired of all of this. I'm struggling so hard to achieve and it's always for nothing. It's looking like it'll be another fucked up year for me again. And now they're trying to shove that Global Classroom shit down our throats. I don't even know if it's compulsory or not. They won't tell me for sure.

It's been so long since I've been happy.   

2017

How did my life go so wrong?

Everything's just turned out so terrible.

I've lost all my friends and I'm stuck doing this worthless degree that I don't even like anymore. It's like everything I touch turns to shit.

I can't talk to anyone; not even my family - they don't understand, and I don't see a point in trying. I feel like I'm slowly losing my mind, cooped up in this house every day. I have nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I'm reminded of this every time I wake up in the morning.    

It's like it gets worse with every passing year. I'm somehow expected to carve out a life in this busy world full of awful people - wade through all the garbage so that I don't drown - that's my reward at the end of the day. You do all these things that you don't want to do, because you need to do more things that you don't want to do. That's how it works; that's supposed to be aspirational. 

Why is everything so difficult?

I've tried to be neutral about all of this but I just can't anymore. I feel like I might just kill myself this year. It would be so easy. I'd just have to bring a stool to the roof of OneCity and climb over the railing. I don't have a purpose in life. I've even cleaned up my room so they won't have to.

I need to go salvage what's left of my degree now. I told them I wanted out. I'm hoping I can get a credit transfer somewhere better. Or I don't know - maybe I'll stay.

I don't know what to do. 

Just a Quick Update.

It's literally been a year since I last wrote anything for the blog. And logging into my blogger to write made me remember I was supposed to write a piece for Seafield.FM's blog (oops). Well, I guess I'll get to that later if I can.

Anyway, the mid-term holidays have just started. Yippie, right? I'm a little uneasy not because of homework (there's none for once) but because I hardly ever get anything done during holidays. I dunno, it's just my mind craves the internet all the time. But when I go on Facebook, I just have nothing to do; no notifications to respond to, nobody on chat. I guess it's the reason why some people hate Facebook so much. It's like a drug and Mark Zuckerberg's probably doing voodoo or something along with Apple.

I've tried to restart writing again and I've got some form of success. I managed to finish a chapter from Junkyard City (still can't believe I haven't finished any concept art for the book yet. Oh, and in case you don't know, I like to do little scene pictures from the books and stuff I'm writing; helps the ideas to flow.), and I just realized, that while I've got a basic framework for Druscall (this pirate thing I'm working on), I don't have an antagonistic force or a real direction for it. Everything's just adventure and epic pirate stuff like sword fights and battleship-esque canon battles in the middle of the ocean. On a related note, I'm glad I've finished a piece for Druscall, the good ol' Captain brooding at the bow of the Caravus, in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle (The Three Walls, in the book).

So, I want to catch up on writing for the holidays as well as do some art. I got this excellent acrylic paint set from Sunway. I've never used acrylics before, EVER but I hear you're supposed to use a canvas (which I don't have). Pfft, doesn't matter. I'll be practicing my painting and digital art skills during these two weeks. My Intuos has been in its bag for far too long.

Lastly, I also want to do some serious studying. The mid terms were an epic fail. I can't believe it. I realize I didn't try that hard but I still don't believe that instead of people worrying about getting As or Bs, people are actually worrying about passing or not. So far, I've failed my Add Maths :/. I think I failed my Chemistry too but I haven't checked; it's too depressing. I just barely passed my Math and I'm pretty sure I did horribly on my Bio. Only English can save me now. Of course, I didn't tell my parents. It's like one of those infinite loop flow chart things: Get good marks? - NO - nag* - study harder/ Get  good marks? - YES - nag* - study harder. Doesn't really mean much, especially to me. Anyway, I'm trying to keep looking ahead, so I'm planning on finishing most of the workbooks I have stacked in my drawers. I guess that's all for now so wish me luck!

A Day Late Friend

He was running... Where? He didn't know. Wrecked cars were strewn about as if they were the playthings of giants. Shops and businesses were on fire and he choked as some of the smoke blew into his face. His feet hurt and they were bleeding, he noticed as exhaustion doubled him over. He started to slow down to a clumsy shuffle. He needed to run but his broken body just couldn't do it any more.

Amid the buzz of adrenaline, fatigue and shock, memories started to flow. Memories of his family: mom, dad, Jill and also Ryan. Was this his life flashing in front of his eyes? He was going to die, though he knew it deep down in his gut a long time ago. He staggered over to sit in the back seat of a wrecked compact that had its doors wide open. He legs gave way, however, bringing his entire weight down on the rough asphalt littered with bits of car. He cried out in pain as sharp bits of gravel and car bit into his flesh. He dragged his frame onward and settled for the rear quarter panel and the wheel to rest his weight against.

Slumped against the car, he looked up at the sky. Cinders danced amid the thick smoke that spewed out of the burning e-Mart two shops down. Sunset was upon the city. He reveled in the thought that he would be getting his will to die seeing a sunset. His breathing started getting ragged and he laid his cut-up, bruised and blood-caked hands by his side, not bothering to have a look at them or worry about treating them. This truly was the end.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but he could hear them. They were closing in. Part of him recoiled in fear but the majority remained unfazed. This was him accepting his fate. Glass crunched a distance away. The metal on cars groaned and crunched, and the familiar sound of glass shattering could be heard. They were taking forever and his insides were practically screaming for it all to be over with.

There was a long pause when suddenly, something yanked him back and before his mind could process what had happened, he felt the teeth sink into the nook between his neck and shoulder. Warm liquid rushed down his chest and back. He was staring at the sky, transfixed at the sheer nothingness in them. The thing made another chomp and bit down harder, sending a jolt through him. Even as he was bleeding profusely and feeling his life ebb away, he couldn't help but like how nice the fur of the creature felt against his exposed skin.

Finally, the thing let go and he landed once more like a rag doll on the rough road strewn with broken glass, garbage and bits of cars. He looked up at the thing that took his life and now left him dying: a tall dog-like creature with golden fur. The suit he wore was ripped and covered in his blood and filth. His tie fluttered slightly in the breeze as the thing looked down upon her with its scarlet eyes. Others were around him too: a white-furred something dressed in a track suit and a wolf in the remnants of a police uniform. All of them stared down at him, not making a sound.

Then, as suddenly as the gold-furred creature had yanked her up and sank its teeth in her, they left; dashing out of her field of vision in a heartbeat. Speaking of heartbeats, hers was quickening and dare she say it, pumping harder against the inner walls of her chest. It gradually gained oomph and in the space of mere seconds, the beating had grown to a point that they hurt. His own heart pounded against his insides like a sledge hammer. It was agony! Just when he thought it would burst through his rib cage, the rest of his body suddenly ignited in pain. He thrashed and screamed. His senses were a blur of color, sound and agony.

Things snapped within him, parts of him stretched, things like wires went through his skin.

The one thing that stood out from the mess of pain, however, was his eyes. They felt as if they were being forced back into his skull. He tried feeling for them against the protests of his arms that felt as if they were broken and on fire. He'd rip them out of their sockets just to stop the pain.

His insides tossed and turned like the churning sea in a storm. He could feel his senses die. He could feel his feelings and emotions shift. It didn't take him long to discover his own body was going against him! He could feel his body smothering him. It was as if it had a mind of its own and now, it decided he wasn't needed anymore. He tried to scream and it came out as a high howl.

He tried to reach for something to hold on to as this poison engulfed him. The world turned dark, his senses all but dead. He thought he'd died but no, he still breathed. His eyes snapped open to find that the world had gone red.

Cecil fell off the stool and shot off in the dark to where he collided painfully with the wall of small apartment he was in. Cold sweat soaked through his T-shirt. His skin crawled. He checked his surroundings: the rifle was still perched half out of the window and to his right, his trusty old backpack was in a heap where he had dumped it before going on sniping duty.

It was one of those dreams again, the ones that were just too real to feel like dreams. His breathing was ragged like the girl in his dream. It didn't make sense in the slightest but somehow, he knew everything about her.

She was Diana Newman, born on the fourteenth of April, 1988. Cecil tried to control his breathing. She was the daughter of Frank and Anne Newman, and she had a sister named Jill. She was also dating someone by the name of Ryan Lake. More and more of her memories started to surface. Everything about her was in his head: high school crushes, best friends, her job, likes and dislikes...

Cecil sat down in the corner and gripped his head in a futile attempt at getting himself together. It felt as if his skull was being crushed from all directions. Just what was happening to him? Diana wasn't the first person's memory he'd "gained". Scott Grenniger, the lawyer; Franchesca Seinfeld, the school teacher; Ben Robbins, the college footballer... He was sure they were memories. They all had the same ending; dying and then getting that suffocating feeling as their bodies took over - that sudden realization that you couldn't do anything about it and then crying out in horror before crushing darkness engulfed them fully. He shuddered.

Cecil stood up and fumbled around for the light switch. Finding it and flicking it on, went to the bathroom to wash his face, not even flinching at the sudden burst of light that hurt his eyes. He did however shake his head as the feeling reminded him of the eye episodes every one of the victims encountered.

A few cupped splashes of cold water and a little rub-down later, he stared at himself in the mirror. His steely reflection stared back. Cecil leaned in closer to look in his eyes. There in the glass, the red halo around his pupils that followed every "incident" could be seen.

Benton had said that he was special; that he would lead the others and rise up as champion in the struggle for survival. In his own words, he'd said that Cecil would learn in time, and come to accept his new responsibilities.

As much as he'd like to deny it, Cecil knew he was different. Everything from saving the entire Community twice, getting shot at point blank multiple times, to this memory gaining thing set him apart from the rest. But all that was secondary compared to what else Benton said he would accomplish. According to him, he'd be able to "take the world for his own and shape it in his image".

Why him? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. Out of over six billion people, it just had to be him. He never slept well since Jim died and he used that free time to mull things over. Along with the stuff he could do so far, he'd discovered he had super-human strength by lifting and throwing a small car off the top of a multi-storey car park just the other day.

It was accidental and he did it purely out of rage at everything that was going on. Thankfully, nobody was around to witness him picking up a half tonne car and hurling it into the next building like it was a trash can. What would they say? More importantly, what would they do?

He shared so much in common with the severely infected - the savage red-eyes. Could he be one of them? A case of on the edge but not quite over? But those eyes looking back at him in the mirror were almost smiling at him, as if saying "Soon"

He checked his battered watch and found he was overclocking again. Cecil went over to the orange heap of fabric that was his backpack and rifled the pockets for his cellphone. It was difficult trying to keep track of things these days. He was losing things far more often than he used to. Pretty soon, he'd be losing his mind as well, he thought.

He called Hutch, the man who never seemed to go home to call it a day.

'I was beginning to think you were gonna to go 'til you dropped. Get some rest. You're useless if you're gonna yawn behind that sniper scope.'

With the rifle and supplies in check safely in his now bulging backpack, he gingerly crossed the huge hole in the hallway to get to the stairs. As the jagged floorboards creaked threateningly beneath him, he couldn't help but think that he would survive the drop anyway now that he had these crazy super powers.

Outside, Kitt roared to life and purred. His xenon headlamps blinded him as he made his way towards his trusty robotic companion.

'So, you shoot any?' he asked hopefully he climbed in and tossed the bag into the passenger seat. The top of his "X" brow jumped hopefully.

'No.'

'Wow, you really suck.'

'Well you're full of shit. Just take me home, will you?' Cecil said, pinching the top of his beak where his nose once was.

'Seriously, why do you keep doing this? It's not like you and Laura are starving or anything.' he felt the car jerk backwards out of the alley into the street.

'I just need some alone time,' Cecil said, not looking at Kitt's "X" face in the display.

'Well sure, everyone does. But come on, you need friends too, right?' and his voice was filled with genuine concern for him.

'You think I'm not spending enough time with my friends?'

'Yeah. Look here.' The windshield came alive with the scene of a the computer lab where he knew Mort would be working late. Huddled together around the little otter were all his friends: Laura, Kyle, Nora and Hutch. The sound was muted but they appeared to be having a good time; having meaningful conversation with each other while Mort worked on the computer. He watched as Kyle sprayed bits of bagel all over everyone from laughing too hard.

In the smaller dash display, Kitt still eyed him. The proof was there, he'd just shown it to Cecil.

'It's just that I'm in a bit of a dilemma over here.' Cecil said, watching the girls wear a disgusted look on their faces while Kyle and Mort laughed along to something Hutch said.

'Whatever it is, you better work it out fast. Life expectancy here isn't all that high, you know. One day you're alive and the next thing you know, BOOM!' Kitt made a deafening exploding sound effect that made the cabin shudder and make Cecil jump.

'Thanks,' Cecil simply said before assuming manual control. Kitt gave the car to him as soon as his gloved hand touched the gearstick. He smiled and pondered over some more things as he made his way home.

He would make sure that they never knew what he was hiding from them. It was the safer thing to do. As they say, what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Or was it phrased a little differently? He couldn't quite remember.

As he drove on into the darkness, a sudden thought occurred to him.

'Wait, how did you get the video feed from the complex?'

'Secrets, my friend.' Cecil rolled his eyes as Kitt started to laugh in mock evil.

Chanced Away

COWARD!!!... traitors... I'm different! iDen killed my family... I'm going to die here.

Ed stared at the mural, if it could be called one at all. It took up almost the entire wall. It depicted the infected - clothed, humanoid animals - reaching out for help but being gunned down by uniformed men instead. Notable iDen machinery hovered around the scene like the ZHAR fighter and some of those metal skeleton robot things. Behind the uniforms stood a group of normal people a distance away. One of them had his arms crossed as if to say "get it over with."

Every word stung. Most of them were hateful in nature, condemning iDen and humanity for "leaving them behind." There were final words too: My name is Kieth Marshall and I'm going to die here... I love you Grace... David Reis, if you're reading this, I don't think I'll make it. I love you - Sara

It chilled him to the bone. It seemed like the wall was speaking. Adding to the effect of it all was the blood; smeared in places and he noticed some of the writing was made with the stuff too. He felt sick. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. His eyes scanned some more - I love you, Cassie... HUMANITY BETRAYED US... God is dead...They took my son... I still love you, Lauren Davids... They killed my family... We miss you, Frank Uley... Traitors... Traitors... TRAITORS!!!

Edward doubled over, clutching his abdomen over the painful knot that had suddenly formed in gut with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other for fear of vomiting. All the warmth and love had truly gone from this world, he thought. He never realized this until now but he, Edward Fletcher, was all alone. He was here, in the ruins of San Francisco - his old home - with people he never quite connected with. They were in danger... The red-eyed things, the robots and whatever else that could do harm were nothing compared with what the sound-minded infected would do to them if they found out they were here. Yesterday, he overheard Daniel say something about lynching. But after what humanity has done, maybe they deserved that.

The five of them - Elizabeth, Daniel, Megan, Rachel and Ed - were in a safe house for the time being; one of the mansions on Lombard Street. It was far enough from where their base was but was close enough that Cecil or someone else could keep an eye on them all. It had come as quite a shock that he'd lived. In the copter, when they both found out each other was alive, Cecil went ballistic. The whole thing almost went down. Ed shuddered at the thought of his expression - he was beyond livid. It would be forever inked in his mind; curiosity, then the gaping of his beak in realization before his face contorted in rage as he pinned Ed to the wall of cabin.

Cecil had every right to get mad; Ed made his life here hell. Ed bullied him in school before the outbreak and based on the intelligible bits of outburst in between the cursing, his whole family had died and he'd lost close friends. He was also a bird-like creature now, bearing the curse of science, like Elizabeth's fiance, Marcus, that Kyle fellow and Nora. Ed was paying for his misdeeds now. But just how much did he have to pay? He lost his family too, and his friends, the rest of the world... He changed at the facility after he was rescued... He learned to love more and the moment he took that woman's child to safety on the bridge, he made a pact to himself that he would change, and he did. He focused on finding a cure for the virus with Rachel and the others. He made it a point to show only the good side of him and to lock up the bad deep down inside him where it wouldn't have a hope of surfacing ever again. He'd changed, damn it! Didn't he deserve a second chance? Was it really too late to make amends? The knot in his gut threatened to break his composure and send him breaking down in tears or something along those lines. He honestly didn't know how he felt except that it didn't feel good in the slightest.

Something nested on his shoulder, setting his nerves alight with warmth and comfort. He turned to find Rachel standing next to him on the cold, damp sidewalk. Without saying anything, she hugged him tightly and he returned the hug without question. It was just the thing he needed.

'It gets better...' she said.

'Doesn't feel like it,' he choked.

She didn't say anything and the two of them were locked in the embrace until Ed pulled away. He always thought Rachel was one of the more caring scientists. There was a long pause where neither of them made eye-contact.

'I guess we should get back inside,' he said.

Rachel nodded. Ed hoped Elizabeth had calmed down by now. She loved Marcus deeply, but asking him to bite her and change her was just out of question. They had quite a standoff afterwards until Marcus simply left in fury. As he drove off, tires squealing over the slick roads, he watched the bossy, no-nonsense, blond-haired former secretary to Noah Benton break down and cry. It was just so unlike her... Then again, he'd seen another side of people he never knew existed. Megan was a prime example. At first, he thought Megan Skye was going to be one of those broken people who had just given up hope on life after the outbreak. Having her as a roommate would've been hell, or so he thought. One moment she was crying her eyes out on her bunk and the next, she became the first person he saw smile in days as they both got acquainted. She hid her pain quickly enough and the two warmed up to each other quickly. Ed often caught himself mulling over his feeling for her. He'd known her for over two years and both good and bad memories were shared between them.

Megan was up on the roof with Nora and Kyle - both huskies. The clock on the wall indicated that it was two in the morning but Ed doubted its accuracy considering that nobody'd lived here in two years. Rachel disappeared into the living room where Daniel was kneeling next to Elizabeth who was sniffing as she sat on the carpet in front of the big, luxurious leather sofa.

Ed basked in solitude as only the sound of his footsteps and the slight rustle of his clothing could be heard in the halls as he mounted step after step to the roof access. Nearing the top, he heard laughter. Deep, rumbling laughter - Kyle.

'And he was like I'm going to kill you so hard you'll- Oh, hey, Ed.' Megan stopped the joke abrutly at his presence.

'Hey,' Kyle and Nora said at the same time. Ed noticed their eyes glinted slightly in the dark. The two of them were considerably taller then Megan and Ed. They two of them were strong, with Kyle leading considerably in muscle mass. Even in the low light, it was hard not to notice the amount of muscle wrapped around their calves, thighs and arms. He'd seen one of them run before and truth be told, their speed and agility were frightening. Kyle was black and white while Nora had sable fur, allowing them both to dress lightly in the cold, unlike the rest of the human refugees.

'Hey. Anything going on?' Ed asked as an ice-breaker.

'No, don't worry, we're safe here,' Nora said.

'Yup, none of the red-eyes for blocks, here,' Kyle added.

'Great,' Ed fixed his eyes on Megan.

'Meg, can I talk to you alone just for a moment?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Sure, I guess.'

Ed beckoned her to follow her down to the deserted floor below them while Kyle and Nora resumed watch. Kyle eyed him with mild curiosity as he walked pass. He noted his eyes were a baby blue. Nora was hunched over the railing, surveying the wreck of a helicopter that had crashed into the opposite mansion. She had something that looked like a small harp slung over her back along with a sheaf of arrows nestled in a tube.

Downstairs, Ed closed the door behind them and flicked the light switch on. They were greeted by the sight of a rather spacious office that was tastefully furnished. A large desk dominated the space.

'What's this about?' Megan asked softly.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Um, sure. Shoot.'

Ed took a breath before asking the question.

'Do people deserve second chances?'

'What?'

'Do people deserve second chances?' he repeated.

'Well, it depends. What for?'

'It's sort of universal.'

She paused to mull the answer over.

'Well, I mean, if it's for good, then yes.'

'Do I deserve a second chance?'

'What are you talking about?'

'I did some terrible things to people, Megan - Cecil included. I want to make amends.'

'What sort of things are we talking about here?'

'Bullying.'

Megan stared at him. It was the same look she gives test results and complicated-looking data sheets - the look of deep thought. Then her lips parted in an answer.

'Edward Fletcher... I don't think you're capable of bullying,' she said tenderly.

'But I did. I ruined people's lives and many of those people died without any closure or resolve or whatever.'

She inhaled deeply.

'Ed, whoever that person you say ruined lives doesn't exist anymore. I don't see him in you. You're a whole different person - you're a good person. You remember that. Do you think I'd make friends with scumbags? You want to make things right, and that's proof of who you really are. My mom once told me that it's not what you've done that matters but what you will do next.'

She placed a hand over Ed's chest, just over where his heart was.

'And I'm telling you that yes, you do deserve a second chance.'

Ed pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tight.

'I love you, Meg,' he whispered into her ear before he realized what he'd done.

'I love you too, Ed,' she replied.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep in their respective beds, sofas or sleeping bags, Ed climbed out of the bed he shared with Megan and put his shoes back on. He tip-toed through the house until he was outside and facing the wall with the mural again.

Again, the words played over in his head like disembodied voices were whispering into his ear. He couldn't stop it. This time, however, he didn't feel sick. Absentmindedly, he put his hands in his pockets and halted abrutly just as his right hand entered the slit. It was like deja vu all over again. He was in the helicopter and looking into the steely grey eyes of Cecil Reinhart, feeling the sudden realization hit him at who he was. It was as if the universe was playing a trick on him that only seemed to stretch his mind more and more. Pretty soon, he would have to put his sanity to question.

From the depths of his jean pocket, he withdrew the whiteboard marker he had meant to return to the board room. Uncapping it, he smiled ever so slightly as he wrote in capitals under the rifle of the masked man, where it would be clearly seen to anyone who chanced upon the mural.

"MY NAME IS EDWARD FLETCHER. I SURVIVED."

And survive, he did. He will make things right one way or another, and he'll take anything the universe can throw at him. He will earn the forgiveness of Cecil Reinhart if it's the last thing he did.