strange subtle truth
written: 1:09 a.m. on Monday, Dec. 01, 2003

Took me quite a while to figure out how those bloody in-text/in-line scrollbars work but I finally solved the non-mystery. HTML still gives me a throbbing headache though. Tried to work with tables but I got myself all confused and pissed off so I gave up.

Right, anyway.

It's another sleepless night again. Maybe I should stop drinking two cups of tea per day. That's six teaspoons of sugar per day. Will I get diabetes? My family has a diabetic history. Grandma suffers from it and her condition has worsened. My uncle was recently diagnosed with the disease.

My grandma is so afraid of her condition getting even worse and crippling her that she doesn't dare to eat anything that would potentially escalate her precarious state of health, which means her daily staple consists of bland, uninteresting and hardly-edible, almost war-time food, like oatmeal and plain rice and whatnot.

And it really makes me wonder, if somewhat callously and insensitively. But it makes me wonder: why torture yourself during your last few years on earth? If you know that you're approaching the day when you'll finally meet the Grim Reaper, why not just enjoy yourself and indulge in the kind of pleasure that you've been avoiding practically your entire life?

When I take meaningless Internet surveys there's always this question: If today were your last day on earth, what would you do?

I'd fuck, I'd do drugs, I'd sky-dive, I'd fuck somemore, I'd do things that I wouldn't do if it weren't my last day on earth, things that would harm my body, for what would be the point of avoiding such detriments when you're gonna die anyway?

Is a life of fear really worth living? It may not be the same thing, my last day on earth and my grandma's deteriorating health, but I just thought of that anyway.

Of course I don't want her to pass on so soon. I may be emotionally-handicapped, but I'm not totally unfeeling and heartless. It's just a thought that crossed my mind sometime during the past few days when I see my mom fussing and fretting over her mom's health, making calls to my uncle in Taiwan for medical advice, typing her mom's medical report word-for-word... I almost wanted to tell her what I thought, that my ah ma should just eat what she wants and forget about being afraid of dying because death is, after all, inevitable.

I didn't tell her that, of course. I'd be stupid to, and so absolutely insensitive.

Somehow, I doubt things are as simple as I make them out to be though. Human beings are indeed a strange breed; we struggle so hard to hold on to life no matter how meaningless it is, how unrewarding, how crap and how torturous and painful. One would think we would be glad to be released from this kind of tormenting but subtle pain when the time finally comes, when nature finally tells you that your time is up, but no, we do all sorts of things to keep ourselves alive, and for what?

For those around us. Out of love. Because we know that our loved ones still care.

Perhaps that's the meaning of life. I don't know. Hypothetically-speaking, my death would be suicidal: I'd kill myself when I feel that I've accomplished all that I want in life, when I feel that I've answered my calling, whatever that may be. Besides, I'd rather die in my own hands than to let a disease or chance or another human being have the luxury and pleasure of taking away my own life.

Who really knows though? That notion is only real if I become lonely and all by myself when I grow older. I still don't want to get married, but if the right guy ever comes along and I abandon my own pledge to myself and we actually breed, how can I do that? It's impossible.

I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that the main reason for human survival is human interaction. We can't do without anyone, and I'm not talking about it in the Aldous Huxley, Brave New World sense. We all need people, be it family or friends...

And of course I would like to believe that it's different for me, and sometimes I truly think that I don't need anyone, but after all's being said and done, it all boils down to one simple and underrated truth: I do need people, if only to keep me sane. Living in my own head 24 hours a day, 7 days a week would kill me and I would become schizophrenic.

Ergo, I am thankful for my family. Mom, Dad, the stupid brother. Without them I would've killed myself a long time ago.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010