Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
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notes 15/4/15:
life is too short to spend it half asleep
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we write about pain to to make it go away. we write to make sense of tragedy and loss. we give pain a name to make it mean something. because maybe it hurts less that way
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Am treating my exams like the eventuality of death, acting like it doesn't exist until it's finally upon me
— Pork Noodles (@ohlookyhere) April 15, 2015
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death feels distant to me. something alien and unnatural. it doesn't feel real. and yet it seems familiar. the joy of forgetting and the horror of remembering. feeling guilty for laughing.
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I had so many bad dreams last night. One part, the last part of the dream was that I had baked a cake but the plate I used fell apart and I was in school and in trouble because someone's dog had died because of me - they had fed their dog my cake - and now they were looking for revenge. I woke up at 9am still half asleep. I was scheduled for a lecture today and to be on the wards. I forced myself to get up and write my report which was due yesterday and sent a text to a friend to tell him I wasn't coming in. A wasp started buzzing at my window. How on earth did that get in here...? I remember thinking. It became increasingly agitated that it was trapped and started tapping the glass fiercely. I packed up my things and headed over to the library so that I could concentrate. I managed to get quite a lot of work done. At 5pm I check my phone, which has been on silent all day, then i see the message the first line hits me like a punch in the stomach: 'Dearest darling Jon... today Koong Koong passed away at roughly 1am. Poh Poh and I were with him till the end...' I stared at the message for a while, trying to make sense of it. I knew it was coming. He had been in hospital for the last month and a half, and his heart had already stopped once. I just didn't think it would be today. In the library. With my report half finished. I put my phone in my pocket and took a walk outside to clear my mind. I was trying to come to terms with the facts. I was slightly dazed still, marooned in my own reality, unable or unwilling to make the leap. I returned to my desk and blinked blankly at the computer. I finished the rest of my report by 8pm and returned home. On the way I picked up a subway. I had met the lady who made my sandwich before. She liked making small talk with customers.
'Long day in clinic?' she asks.
My grandfather passed away today.
'Long day in the library. Had to finish writing up a case report.'
'Ahh,' she says.
At home I toss my bag in my room and enter the toilet. I sit down and stare at my surroundings. I feel like I'm floating. I feel detached, not computing. I wonder if I'm still half asleep. Is this real, I wonder, or is this just another bad dream?
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