sign

sign

The 1st time I listened to this song, I cried despite the cheerful tune. I had absolutely no idea what the song was about, no idea why, and how I came to this state. Ga In's voice... sweet desperation to: be saved, to be heard to be looked for. "mayday"

I guess, now I know why those tears rolled down my cheeks.

Nightmares of past experiences have never left me ever since the last time I sent out the sign, the last time, I whispered a particular person's name in despair, the one and only person I though could read my erratic thought, he left me of 17 years old bleeding till I lost all my sense - in a comma. The beauty of what cannot kill you, is the fact that it makes you so much stronger, callous, till the point you wonder, if this, cannot finish me off, then WHAT will, and WHAT can?

My interpretor, since when did we lose ourselves in translation? Since when could you not be bothered to read my sign?

I thank mom for bringing me back to life, for those times she listened to me crying, those times she drew the perfect line, refusing hear any more nonsense of a weakling, those time she pretended not knowing those salty drops of water were my tears, just to be by my side when I needed her the most. Because I am able to breath today, to walk pass the particular person without stirs, I refuse to send the SOS S.I.G.N to anyone. Isn't it too pitiful, to depend your matter of life and death on the hand of someone else? 50-50, if you yourself are not willing to save you, what make you think someone else will?

These days, for the countless times, I hear a voice in my head, unconsciously sending those "dot dot dot" SOS sign. However, no matter how devastated, no words of complains or misery have been uttered, not to anyone. It's deafening silence. I trapped myself in this glass box, filled top full the torturing liquid - I drown myself inside my Pride.

PRIDE, like those people who is addicted to self mutilation, I make a deliberate choice. I could have killed myself without knowing it. Pride, the very meaning of the word in the dictionary, which definitely should have had Yunho's picture as a famous example: "A strong sense of self-respect, a refusal to be humiliated as well as joy in the accomplishments of oneself or a person, group, or object that one identifies with". It is not about whether I can get 150 recent years of US History in my head or not. It is a must that I have to nail it, because I chose it.

temptation, giving in, giving up... temptation to tap the little "SOS" through the broken phone, give a little hint, the pleading eyes...

S.I.G.N

I just can't do it. I just can't take pity... WHAT FOR? This is my choice, even if it is completely STUPID from the start to chose this scholar-unfriendly combination, to walk away from my chances of sunshine, I start it, therefore I have to end it.

I guess it worths the fight, going against the winds to test my strength. In my fading memory, I remember the vividly the desire of a young girl, 13? 14?... 19, 20? who gave up love, the opportunity to be pampered, cared for, for this rocky path; the particular girl, who cried herself to sleep, singing the only lullaby:
"let me feel, I don't care if I break down
let me fall, even if I hit the ground
and if I, cry a little, die a little
at least I know I lived
just a little"

2.50 am
I am 20, I have 150 years of US History in my hands. My A level comes next week, starting with History, Math, and GP. I understand my situation perfectly well, that I am drowning, but NO, I am not sending SOS sign.


"dot dot dot dot" - in the dark, the broken phone buttons are pressed in dignity, a simple message home:
"mom, I am fine"