It’s not natural.

Ironically, I have been having trouble to cope with death of late. Not regarding my brother this time around, no, but this is completely different. I’ve been having immense difficulties in watching the recent news of terrorism overseas or of hardships and inequality that people face everyday. I’ve been crying over events, I’ve have been deeply depressed about it. All for people I don’t even know.

It was bad, really bad depression. I couldn’t cope with it, I didn’t know why I had become so sad all of the sudden (I never felt so much sadness over a news article until two months ago) and I didn’t know why it was so overwhelming. It was so much I just didn’t want to feel, I didn’t want to be here at all.

Where this gets fucked up was my thought process of this. After having had experienced loss before, I didn’t want to make my family go through it again. Of course, that means I shouldn’t commit suicide right? No, not really, it just meant that my family should have come with me, and then their friends and family too, and then their friends and family. The world is too dirty anyways, it’s much better if everyone was just gone: all the innocent wouldn’t have to experience pain and sadness, while those evil get what they deserve anyways.

Over time, this feeling has lessened considerably. Mostly because I just avoid the news now, it’s also much better considering the number of terrorist attacks have died down. Though I haven’t thought this way recently, I feel like if the number of deaths were to spike again, I would recert back to that same thought process.

I don’t think I have it in me to actually kill myself, let alone the people that I love and care for, but the thoughts are there. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I should be afraid of myself, other times it just feels like the most logical conclusion (I value logical thinking over anything else, even if this doesn’t sound logical right now) anyone would’ve come up with considering the situation of our world.

People have told me that it’s natural, you know, for people to die. I laugh at that, no, you can’t say shit about what a natural death is. I’ve experienced loss before: my brother died in his sleep, that is a natural death. Cancer, stroke, heart attacks, meningitis, old age; those are all natural deaths, and I’ve come to terms with it. What is not natural is when someone pulls a trigger on a perfectly healthy person, or when they get stabbed, or when a bomb explodes.

That is not a natural death, and it will never be one. It’s not, it just isn’t.



#4: An Emotional Rollercoaster.

The smell of vomit and the taste of blood was all that he could sense now, nothing else was of interest to him, yet at the same time, everything else was what he wanted. “No,” he told himself, “I need to save him.”

He swayed forward, his lumbering leg digging itself into the ground, providing support for the rest of his body. His threw his other leg forward, then his other leg, and in this strange dance did he march onward. He disregarded the outstretched arms looking for refuge, shaking one off when a hand grasped his leg. The moans of demise resonated in his eardrums, “I can’t save you,” he announced, “I can’t save any of you.” In time, the arms began to drop, and he was allowed passage to march.

There, in the middle, he saw him, circled by his enemies. The dreadful monsters, a mob surrounding a little innocent boy who did nothing wrong. The legs that once felt like iron now became feathers, and he rushed towards the boy. He lifted his third arm up, the one made out of metal and filled with death, “Get away from him!” he shouted with empty threats, “Get away or I’ll kill you all!”

Gunfire erupted in a split second, with chaos overthrowing rationality on the battlefield. He didn’t know who shot who, he didn’t even know he had his finger on the trigger until he saw one of the men explode. His finger rested upon the trigger, as his arm flailed around from side to side, and he charged towards them with a roar. He watched as brains burst out of their cages, flying free into Heaven high above. The sand was painted with a dark shade of red, a coat of red from his enemies and of himself.

His knees weakened and his body failed him, yet he smiled as he fell into the red sand. Peace had regained his heart, a momentary silence of the maddening thoughts in his head before he would pass. It was over, it was finally over, and his smile was wide and genuine.

And the last thing he sees before he dies was the crumpled head of his little boy falling down.

Calm me,

#2: Water.

In a way, a continuation of an old poem I’ve written called Blue.

Calm me, water.
Bring me to peace,
Bring my thoughts to a still,
Give me the resonance of the waves,
Of a never-ending shore.

Calm me, water.
Give me the air in my lungs,
Fill them with water,
Not knowing what it is,
Delude me into life.

Calm me, water.
Give me peace,
From the endless war of life and death,
Give one its victory,
And tell me the score.

Calm me, water.
Give me an illusion,
Of a still life,
Let me dive deep
And help me find my soul.

Kill me, water.
Bring me to peace,
Bring my thoughts to a still,
Give me the resonance of the waves,
Of a never-ending shore.

It Could Have Been

It could have been your brother,
to have suffered from a seizure,
foam suturing his lips.

It could have been your daughter,
to fall out the building,
air caressing her cheek.

It could have been your boss,
to collapse of a heart attack,
hand grabbing his chest.

It could have been your grandmother,
to rest from cancer,
knife probing her insides.

It could have been your friend,
to have bullets thrown at,
crying tears of blood to sleep.

It could have been the person next to you,
to fall asleep,
wheeled into a white room.

It could have been you,
to be dumped into a landfill,
with marble etched on your head.

It could have been you,
But it wasn’t.

What do I fear?

Everything, but at the same time,

Kind of weird, isn’t it? You cannot have ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’ at the same time, it can’t exist. A juxtaposition, you might say. True, so think about it like this:

If a car were to crash into the lobby and hit you, you’d die; if an earthquake cracks open the ceiling on you, you’d die; if you choke on your favourite apple, you’d die.

Essentially, anything can happen, and everything can kill you. Even your close friends: what if they accidentally bump into you and you fall, face-first, into a pile of rocks? A very shitty way to die, but entirely plausible. You could die at any given second. It’s a fact, isn’t it?

And if you die, you become nothing, won’t you? Perhaps not immediately, but eventually. Sure, your friends and family will remember you after you pass, but what will happen when they die? Nobody will remember you once generations change, let alone talk about you. Unless you’re incredibly famous like Napoleon or Shakespeare.

But let’s face it: Are we?

Hopefully, perhaps not now, but perhaps in ten years time. Or twenty.

So for now, here’s to all the living people. May we all not die in the next hour.


An infectious bacteria that causes severe rashes.
Fevers caused by parasites inside mosquitoes.
Infectious bacterial disease that grows in the tissues and lungs.

They used to say that illnesses are black magic.

A disease caused by an abnormal division of cells.
Swelling in a part of the body caused by an abnormal tissue.
Sudden disabling attack or loss of consciousness.

They used to say that sickness is from the blood.

A highly contagious viral infection causing fever.
Inflammation of mucous membranes in the bronchial tubes.

They say now that each symptom is treatable, curable, nothing.

Human immunodeficiency virus, acquired immune deficiency syndrome.

But is it really?

Heart diseases.
Brain cell death.

Or are they just really


Only another word for



It’s hard being the youngest,

When your family’s in mourning and you’re still a kid, at least, and I’ll tell you why.

Because you’re expected to cheer them up and you have to hide your sadness.

When people come to offer their condolences, they will tell your parents, “Stay strong, it’s God’s will.”

Then they’ll tell you, “Stay strong for your parents, you have to be their happiness.”

You have to force yourself to act cheerful, to distract them from their own depression. But at the same time, you can’t cry. If you cry, they’ll be worried about you and they’ll go further into depression. And you can’t have that, you don’t want to see them cry.

You have to know when they’ll cry, when their eyebrows come together on scrunched up faces. Then you have to hug them and tell sweet nothings.

You have to act strong, like nothing’s wrong. You can’t tell them anything, or they’ll worry they’re not good parents. You can’t let them in, you can’t let anyone in.

The only one you can rely on is the locked, empty room.

You can’t be beaten down, you have to stand up and walk in your spot.

You won’t be angry, you won’t be frustrated, you won’t smother yourself.

You’ll just be tired from your charade.