Or Confession Of A Teenager Who Loves To Dramatise Things.


Music to listen while reading this: Lucky by Radiohead.

***

They say, you never cry, until you see the coffin yourself.

How true.

***

My best friend’s little brother is going to die.

He has always been one hell of a healthy boy. An elite athlete, he is also a gifted student, with money and good looks as well as good characters. He was doing so well, and then along came this weird fever, and the lost of consciousness, and the announcement of the doctor about his uncurable severely damaged brain. All in one night. When I heard about it, I thought, perhaps life was taking back all the benefits that it gave to him.

My best friend visited me the other day. We were playing games and chit-chatting all day, talking about how life had changed, and plans of the future. He said, his little brother told him he disliked studying English. He didn’t want to go to England, but his mother kept insisting on him going. I told him, his brother had better off going to America, since his career is taken care of better in the USA. He said he thought so too. The boy wanted to major in sports-swimming to be exact, my friend told me. But since he is so good in studying too, he could always have a second choice of whatever major that is easier to live with. And there we were, discussing whole-heartedly about the many-years-ahead future of someone that was going to die in a few days time, as if he was still running in the streets out there somewhere.

Oblivion is bliss…or something like that. I don’t remember the quote.

***

My little brother is sick.

Unlike my best friend’s brother who is dying, my brother has always been somewhat of a weak child. He’s lax, pale, does not play any sports and spend all day in front of the screen, TV or computer. He gets decent scores, and takes good responsibility of his duties. He’s that sort of rich, pampered, coward kid. But that’s only the surface.

My little brother is a dangerous child.

I bet he takes after my mother. They’re all the same. He has that ultimate belief in himself, that he is an elite member of the society. He has that ability to make people love him, believe in him, and be under his command without them actually knowing it. He’s an expert when it comes to dealing with people, and using them. It’s kinda impossible to hate him, if anyone dislikes him, he’d turn it into love soon enough. He just has that power.

However, he has been sick for quite some times now. It first came in April, then it went away, then it came again, and went away. And now it has come again. This repetitive sickness never happened to him before.

He was hospitalized yesterday. Whatever happens, I wish he gets back on his feet soon.

***

I have recently developed that unusual fear of sickness. I feel as if, it is some sort of gloomy monster hovering over us, threatening to take away everyone I love.

***

I told my friends back home that my best friend’s little brother was going to die. Sickness is all over the place now. Many people that are close to me are sick, I myself have to take pills everyday. There’s that H1N1 thingy spreading around, and the government of affected nations have officially given up. They could do nothing but to let loose.

Well, reactions of people whom I told about my best friend’s brother?

One of my friend, told me she was frustrated. Not because of the sickness, but because her school doesn’t let students off during this time.

“I wish I were infected with H1N1. That way, I can take days off school.”

And as the virus spreads on people around her, people that are her friends, she sits there, and complains about how annoying her teachers are. “Worry not”, I told her, “I had it worse than you when I was your age. At least you don’t have to deal with Mrs. X.”

Another friend said, sickness is good. There are too many people now. It’s good that some are killed off in time.“Worry not”, he told me, “My luck is high. If it weren’t I should’ve died when I got all those accidents.” What about your family and friends, I wanted to ask him, but he went away for lunch.

You never cry until you see the coffin yourself, which is good most of the time.