Voids Fill Up Differently by Students of IACT (books for students to read txt) 📕

Even So, The Reason Is Out There

Clement Foo, Ahmad Adam Edmund, Catherine Kee, Joseph Lim

My name is Wei Lai. I’m 18 years old.

“What do you think it means to live your life?”

“I don't know and I don't care. What's the point of living and existing anyway? I don't even know my purpose for existing. We are all living beings born to face death one day, so what's the point?”

Every day is just the same wash, rinse and repeat the process. It always feels like eating a packet of cold and stale nasi lemak. I always wonder about the point of my meaningless existence in this world. I'm worthless, untalented, and a complete bother. Why did God create me in the first place if this was how it would end up becoming from the very beginning?

“What are you trying to prove?”

“You're a waste of time for others, I bet it's the same with your own family.”

"If you can't even perform simple tasks and solve simple questions, how are you supposed to be someone successful in the future?"

I could never do well in my academics so my parents were often disappointed. There were plenty of teachers who had given up on me. I didn’t even have a social life either. There was this other guy, Robert, who was just like me; isolated from everyone else. I understood his experiences, but we were never friends. At the end of the day, I was still alone; just an outcast. What a meaningless existence.

All I ever wanted was for people to accept me. I just wanted them to give me even the smallest amount of support. That would’ve been enough in my honest opinion. I wanted to achieve something in life. But when I look at myself in the mirror, I always knew that it was something that I could never achieve in this life of mine. Hilarious. I saw someone reflected in the mirror that wasn’t me, he said to me:

“So what are you going to do about it?”

His features resembled mine, a splitting image. It was weird to talk to someone who looked exactly like myself. Not only that, I was the only person who could see him while others couldn't.

“A puppet with no real sights set upon what it wants. Following others for the sake of being noticed, to be accepted? You can never achieve anything in life like this. But if you let yourself free, perhaps you could achieve your own happiness.”

It was just a dream. I was sure of it.

Perhaps I was too tired of everything. I just want to go into a deep sleep and never wake up again.

I gave up on being a proper individual. I don't care about living a life that I could be proud of. I want to take the easy way out of things, even from life itself. Just what is the point that people want to be successful? It would just end up being meaningless anyway.

I lied to my parents, skipped classes, was constantly having arguments with those around me. I closed my ears, and don't care about what or how others think of me now.

I just wanted to live a simple life not having the need to shoulder any expectations at all, is that too much to ask for? I don't want to die with all this burden on me, can I?

We all die at one point. Living is just a temporary thing. People always die in different ways; they die due to old age, diseases, get in accidents, get killed by others perhaps? Or even them killing themselves. Death is such a nice thing to have around is it not? I wonder if people think of sad things when they die. Perhaps I will find that out one day when I die.

“Value your own life and don’t ever do anything as stupid as taking your own life. Your life is precious and it’s a sin to ever treat it lightly.”

So what?

I don’t care about God, neither the concept of Heaven nor Hell.

I just want to live the way I want to.

My parents found out about my behaviour in school. Of course, they were angered by my behaviour and they were even more strict towards me since then.

I was pissed. Why can’t I just do anything I want with my life?

I kept my mouth shut, and the person from my dreams appeared once more. But this wasn’t a dream, he whispered to me.

“Ahhh, wouldn’t it be nicer if you just…talked back? Why not let them understand your intentions? Voice out your opinion? Do you really want to live being enslaved by their way of thinking? Do you really want to be enslaved by the way of living that has been written down and controlled by society? Break the norms, you can be the first one to do so.”

His voice was cold, yet so soothing. I felt like I had someone I could rely on for once.

I snapped. I yelled at my dad.

“Why wouldn’t you guys understand? I just want to live freely. I don't care about what you want. I'm tired of living under instructions. I hate you all, screw you all. I wish you guys were dead.

What did I just say? Why?

I don't know.

I don't care.

It felt good.

“How did we end up with a child like this?”, my dad said wilfully.

“Didn’t that feel great?”, the voice whispered.

It continued to go on and things felt much better. More than ever, that dad of mine for whatever reason started trying to spend more time with me. He tried to talk to me more. He tried to help me out with school loads more. Though I could never understand his intentions.

What was his reasoning? I can’t understand. But, I couldn’t be bothered by it anyway.

Until one day, he took his own life. I stood there in front of that cold body of his. What do I do? What should I do? What CAN I do?

"I wish that you were dead instead"

“Well this is your fault now, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be better if you died instead? Remember those words?” he expressed heinously as he appeared once more.

I couldn’t say or do anything about it. I’m sorry for what I have done. I dropped everything around and begged; pleaded God to take my life instead of his. But prayers are always to be left unanswered. We’re all just acting as entertainment for God himself. And I am just a fool in the story. I was never free, I was only tricking myself that everything would be fine if I lived the way I wanted to.

Was this really what I wanted? To end up with the guilt of killing someone?

I wanted to cry out.

But that would just show others how weak and pathetic of a person I am.

I wanted people to listen.

But I didn’t want to annoy others.

I wanted to redeem myself,

But I’m just a worthless individual, an untalented idiot, and… a murderer.

Does God really give shelter to those who believe in him? They said God listens to us through our prayers?

What a load of absolute crap.

If God was the one who planned everything in the beginning, it would just make him the author of this world, with us as his actors and actresses in it. Everything that’s good comes from God? What about the bad things? So, every unfortunate thing that happens should just be blamed on the devil? But, the devil himself was also just a creation of God.

My head hurts.

What is the point of existing? I never asked to exist in the first place.

Someone.

Please.

Help ME.

“Don’t you think it’s too late to ask for help?”

What else do you want from me?

“I can help end your suffering”

How?

“Don’t you want to be free from the guilt of killing your sin?”

I do

“Don’t you just feel the anger towards that God who made you?”

I hate Him.

“DON’T YOU JUST WANT TO END IT ALL? ONCE AND FOR ALL? ABANDON THE ROLE THAT YOU WERE FORCED TO TAKE? THE ROLE AS A SUFFERER? THE ROLE OF A MURDERER?”

THE END. I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO END.

“You know what you have to do now don’t you?”

“What can I do? What SHOULD I do?”

As that reflection of mine danced around playfully, a noose appeared around his neck.

“Wha-”

Before I could say a word, he vanished right before my eyes, just to reappear lying on the ground with a pool of blood. He looked disfigured, mangled even. It was disgusting.

Did he just fall from above? My heart was racing, cold sweat trickling down my cheeks. WHAT WAS GOING ON?

“Or something more nostalgic? Perhaps a stab to your own heart?”

He appeared once more with a blade pierced straight through his heart. Piercingly cold dead eyes, with blood, splattered and stained all over him.

I came back to my senses from the shock. I looked down and noticed that I was holding onto a small blade. Pressing the blade against my neck, I wanted to just end it all. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I can’t stand this world. It’s not as if my death would bring an impact to the world itself. But why can’t I do it? Why can’t I build up the strength to end it all? Am I just this spineless and wimpy? Anger boiled at the brim of my existence and yet I couldn’t even finish myself off.

I’m pretty sure this is what you wanted right? What YOU created us for? Just to toy with us and enjoy our suffering. The ‘Almighty God’ created us, humans. The being that so many people cherished and worshipped. I’m so tired of your little games. I don’t care about the afterlife. I never asked to exist in this damned stage play that you created for us anyway.

I never signed up for any of this. But what can I do? I’m nothing but one of the many actors on the stage, waiting for my curtains to close. A slave…. An actor…. Nothing more than garbage.

“Go talk to a counsellor.” The most common reply that one could give; the one I HATED hearing the most.

“Think about your family.” But I’m nothing but trouble.

“Behave yourself!” AM I NOT BEHAVING ENOUGH?

Why can’t you guys understand that I’m already trying my best?

“How did we raise a child like this?” a familiar voice sounded behind me.

I just want to rest. I never want to wake up again.

Ahh, my heart feels like it’s freezing and my mind just feels blank. What am I supposed to do with how things are right now? I don’t want to keep living up to people’s expectations anymore and I don’t feel like voicing out anymore. The voice in my head keeps getting louder and louder, increasingly becoming more prominent in how I think. I have no goal. I truly hate God for creating me. I never asked to be created. I don’t care about entering Paradise or suffering in Hellfire. I just don’t want to exist anymore.

He appeared once more.

“So why not just jump down from a building? Why not let yourself be hit by a car? Or a train? Moving vehicles perhaps? Or you know what would be fun? Going off like how your father did. Now that would be an absolute masterpiece!”

“Would you just shut up already?! Shut up and leave me alone! Why do you even exist? Have you not brought enough pain to me? Is it not enough to satisfy you and your sick intentions? I’ve always hated you. The decisions that I made all this while was because of you. Everything. I am done.”

“Don’t you get it? Hating me means that you’re hating yourself.”

“And wouldn’t it