At about 6pm, mom called to tell me that my uncle is very sick. He’s in the hospital now and in a coma. He probably doesn’t have much time left.

The first thing that was registered in my mind was, finally, it happened. I haven’t been in contact with this uncle for the longest time since i left home for studies. And he hasn’t been most healthy since ten years ago. But throughout these 10 years, i was secretly fearful of the thing that’s gonna happen one day, which is happening right now.

I thought of the times when my friends told me that their relative passed away, or when my friends told me that some other friend’s relative passed away, and how i felt nothing. Like, i know that human passes away, because they get old, get sick, etc. It is only life.

So after i hung up the phone, i broke down. Tears flowed down non-stop and my heart was filled with horror. Because the next thing that came through my mind, was all the memories i had of him. None of my friends has heard of him, because i never mentioned about him. But let’s just say that he was the only man who treated me nice before the word “boyfriend” existed in my life. He was the only male figure i looked up to when i was a child. He took care of me like he was my father, because i didn’t have one. Now i should stop going on about how much he has done for me because the more i type the wetter the keyboard becomes.

Then i had this thought. I realized that i was the most selfish person i have ever known. Because i thought i should visit him before he……, then i thought, no, that’s the last thing i wanted to do right now. I don’t think i can handle it, i really don’t.

Then i wanted to shut the phone off. And maybe throw it away. And maybe just buy a ticket and leave for somewhere and never come back so i never have to deal with it.

Then i found myself analyzing the pattern of the flowers on my bedroom’s wallpaper. There are chunks of flowers all over, and when you look at it from far, it looks like it is arranged diagonally. And most of the bouquets consist of four pink roses, and one purple rose. And the one next to it has more purple, and some orange.

Then i wondered why i was analyzing my wallpaper.

Then i regretted realizing that i was conscious about me analyzing the wallpaper. because, honestly, counting flowers on a wallpaper has never felt so good in my entire life. Not like i do it often. But still. It blocked my mind.

I blocked my mind. But it is like putting a stopper in the sink while letting the tap run non-stop.

In just a bit, the whole room will be flooded. Mine was flooded.

That is what death do to you. It fucks your mind up. I don’t mean it in the way that when you die, your brain stops functioning or whatever. I’m talking about thinking about death itself. It fucks your mind up.

Like what it is doing to me now. I don’t think anything about me is coherent right now. After staring at the wall for one whole hour (which i stopped doing after i realized i was doing it), i briefly considered about playing some Wii Sports Resort, which was what i intended to do before the phone call came. It might do me some good. Like take my mind off things or whatever.

Then i thought, what the fuck am i thinking? Have i lost my fucking mind? (Which was really ironic because i think i just did.) SOMEONE RELATED TO ME IS DYING AND I AM GONNA PLAY WII? What kind of horrible human am i?

Then i started to think of something else. And then realized that there wasn’t anything else that i could think of without me sounding like a horrible person. What am i gonna think about? Dolly Wink? Mentaiko? It all sounds insignificant and absurd to me right now, in my mind. Because the word DEATH is sitting massively next to all those other pleasant words i like. For example, christmas tree. If christmas tree is written in font size 4, then death is size 400,000,000,000,000. When something is so huge, you may want to agree that it’s hard to see anything else.

Then i started to think about stupid things like, why do human die? I don’t want the scientific answer like, because people get old, and old people get sick and weak, and then their body can’t take it and they die. I mean like, why do we HAVE TO die. Why did (whatever mysterious and powerful source) create human, give them life, then make them die? I mean, dying is like the worst part of a life. Humans work hard, deal with shit that happens in their life, get dumped by lovers, get broke, maybe even get STD, etc etc etc, and endure all of it.


Why does something called life end so tragically? because most people suffer when they die. I don’t think there are many people who die while they are shopping on Liz Lisa’s website.

I MEAN, WHY DON”T ALL FUCKING HUMANS JUST STOP EXISTING ALTOGETHER FROM THE BEGINNING?   I mean, what’s the fucking point? Whatever created all these thing, seriously, what’s the fucking point are you trying to proof? Actually, everything should just stop existing in the first place. EVERYTHING. And the galaxy is just this… this… huge, black void that is… nothing. Yeap, nothing.

And then i thought about more nonsense like this. A series of infinite questions that leads me nowhere except a more fucked up mind.

I wonder if it is possible for someone to stop caring for another person because the someone cares too much about the other person. I mean, for the longest time, i have been avoiding the thoughts of my uncle—-in fact, anyone, leaving me. And i think in the process i started to detach myself from them just so that i feel… i dunno, safe? Is that even possible? Because in the end you still have to deal with it. At a later time. I mean, it is not like Facebook, where you can just press a delete button and the person is gone from your life. Or at least your Facebook.

I desperately needed someone to tell me something good. I needed some reassurance. Not about telling me that my uncle will get better, because that is like telling me the impossible, but to tell me that i will be OK.

So it is all about me isn’t it. I am doing all these because i don’t want myself to feel sad. Everything is about me. Everything all everything. I am amazed at my own selfishness.

How do people cope with death? They always say, time heals. But what time? when? how long? Can you like, give me a time frame? One week? One month? One year?  I have dealt with death before, when my grandma passed away. It wasn’t that hard because i was younger and i wasn’t that attached to her. But the more i think the more i freak out. How many deaths do we have to deal with in our lives? 5? 10? 15? How do we get ourselves prepared for it? Is it possible to get used to death? Like, when you get older and people around you started dying and you just go, oh, another bit the dust, oh well. How does it work? What if you have a HUGE ASS FAMILY????? Like, 40 relatives who are older than you or something. So you attend like 40 funerals? I dunno. Does that not sound scary to you?

And then now i don’t know what to type anymore because not knowing what to type anymore means that i will have to go back to thinking about what i was thinking just now. Which scares me. Which is why this entry is so long BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO STOP AND THINK.

Can someone tell me something nice? Anything.