NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED: Tales of Crazy Possession and Lethal Obsession

Three days after my birthday, and miraculously, I don’t feel old. Strangely enough, before it happened and passed just like another ordinary day in my life (plus the picture-taking—whew, that was great!), I always thought I would. Closer and closer to my granny days I would inch, and begin to feel so much like a granny too, little by little, until one day I’d come face-to-face with the end “ without even knowing it.” After all, time passes too fast, doesn’t it? Well, if only I could just have another plus moment to stay on Earth because the world is such a wonderful place indeed, others just don’t realize it; then I wouldn’t have to fear for anything at all. Unfortunately, as of now, there is absolutely no way for me to know the accurate answer, if I could or I could not, and as a result I came down with a phobia, which, only to be honest, was not good at all. Well, which phobia is? Every time the thought of shutting down and entering oblivion (you do understand what I’m trying to say) entered into my mind, by accident or whenever something reminded me about it, it would overwrite my thoughts and suddenly my brain would be preoccupied with no other thought but that very disturbing one. I hated it each time my phobia sprang to activity; it was like a monster that had come to life inside my head and was eating every single thought that stood in its way. It acted as though it wanted to have my entire brain, to disable me, and to finally kill me by scaring me about it. Why it existed, I didn’t though, though my random guess was that it was triggered by a discussion my classmate had brought up in school as the student-teacher on Teachers’ Day. “What is your biggest fear?” he had asked us, to which another classmate had replied, “I’m afraid of death.” Immediately I was able to relate to him, while everyone else let out surprised gasps. I assumed it was because nobody, not even our student-teacher (who was, in fact, one of the poor kid’s best friends/worst enemies), expected such a statement coming from him, but when, at once, I thought of it I knew he had made sense. I was scared of the same thing. Deeper and deeper into thought I sank, and slowly my mind gave birth to a monster it would have to battle later on. I didn’t want it. I had to admit, I was afraid—this time, not of the feared thing itself but of the monster I had created out of it. But then I guess growing another year older (and wiser, I hope) has made me grow right out of the fear and into a brand new perspective, like a molting lizard when it sheds its old skin and gains not only a better appearance but also a better outlook towards survival. Life is indeed ironic, don’t you think?

Speaking of my birthday, which hardly anybody took much notice of, it wasn’t a very memorable day; or at least not as memorable as any of my past birthdays. Originally, my plan was to go out and take a refreshing dip in a pool; unfortunately our subdivision didn’t have many swimming pools to boast, and even if there were a way to confirm these pools’ existence, we wouldn’t know where to locate them anyway. Thus, we would have to consult various forms of media and advertising in order to find a swimming pool we could reach. And even if we did find one, we would have to know first if it had a roof or not, as I have already learned my lesson the hard way and would not want to swim in a pool that lacks the necessary UV protection (and we all know that sunscreen is not enough—it will never be enough). Neither would my dad—why, even if he didn’t swim (and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t—he hardly does) I’m sure he wouldn’t like me coming home looking like burnt barbecue either. I believe he is right, because I am not exactly fond of ruining my complexion. In short, taking a swim for just a day this summer would be too much trouble. Plus, it could be way too expensive, as both my parents have distaste for public pools. So I thought of going out with my elementary-school friends, whom I’d met in their high school that Friday before my day. I promised them we’d hang out, go to the mall, play arcade, watch a movie, perhaps—all those kinds of stuff. But then my mom said no, on account of the gift they had given me just five days before—a brand new laptop. It cost quite a lot, but they allowed me to have it, providing that I surrender a certain amount of my allowance amounting to its price—meaning no big expenses, no parties, no nothing. Yeah, right. It could be hard, I thought, but I guess I can do it. It was a deal; therefore, I had to stick to it.

But being entwined in such a policy has its own ups and downs. All the little things that were mentioned above are just the cons of it. On the bright side, having a new laptop of your very own is just cool. You now have a space to store all your stuff without having to show your whole family that you have them. You have something to reach for immediately each time a nice thought enters your mind. You no longer have to take turns with people who must satisfy this need to play a game. You are free to download all the great games, applications and software in the world, because heck, who is in the position to question you? Enough of being rebellious now, it’s time to be the great writer I want to be someday: with a laptop of your own, you have a place to store all your original creations where nobody else will look at them. However, for me, the best reason would probably be: it’s just nice to have something you could call your own, something that belongs to just you and not to anyone else.

I expected to have a nice time, with many people greeting me and perhaps even a birthday message on General Chat, which I did get; I just realized only now. Yet the absence of litnet’s most colorful personalities on the 30th of March plus the slow progress made the forums appear dead and lacking its usual luster. It then occurred to me that without these people, without the driving force (in this case, good threads and the most exciting games) that would inspire these people to stay, log in every single day and keep them from staying away as some members have reportedly done, litnet would be nothing, and I would be nothing more.

I didn’t stay in litnet the whole day long; whenever the members online stopped being active, I would log off for a moment and go to another web site. I had the longest internet-surfing experience I’d ever had at home, and I guess that’s what I’ll remember most about this past birthday. In the afternoon I had a photo-shoot, with myself as the director and my dad as my official photographer. It lasted more than two hours, and by six in the evening I had a hundred and seventeen wonderful emo shots, just the way I wanted them to look, maybe even better. Afterwards, my family and I gathered around our old but trusty TV, which is even older than my first childhood memory (and to think that it was about a trip to this theme park in my hometown when I was not yet two years old), to watch the movie “Duma.” Before we purchased my laptop, my parents were actually thinking of replacing our old TV with a more modern high-def LCD TV, but after a few days of researching and canvassing we decided we really didn’t need it anyway. After all, with a science-high sophomore in the house, the simple life could actually be beneficial—in a way.

Back then I thought my most recent birthday celebration was the suck-iest (for want of a better word!) one I'd ever had (and would probably ever have). Only now have I realized I was actually able to fulfill a wish I had made several years ago, something I’d been wishing for so badly for my entire preteen life: to have one special day entirely to myself. By the time I was thirteen I had already gained much of the freedom I had spent an eternity just yearning to have, and so I almost totally forgot the wish. During my ----teenth birthday, I had done four things—four things I really loved to do (but couldn’t do regularly on account of my very busy schedule):

1) Surf litnet
2) Text

There are actually ten things I’m currently obsessed with (besides love and a certain guy in our school hiding under the alias “Sun”): cell phones, technology, litnet, the Internet in general, everything related to English, gaming (in English or Italian), writing, rock music, art, and more specifically, texting. I had a texting-spree the whole morning with my cousin, talked to her in the bath, communicated with my former English teacher who actually remembered my birthday (despite the fact that we have been apart for almost three years!), and got to text a very special somebody in my life. He was one of my best friends in elementary school and was my classmate before I went to high school (and moved to science high); we were very close friends then, thanks to his ex-girlfriend who became my best friend and the girl whom he was extremely infatuated with. Back then I had a crush on a high-school guy whom I thought was handsome and appealing and kind, but turned out arrogant and lofty-headed when I tried to talk to him. One day, we quarreled, and this close friend of mine was there when it happened. So I turned to him instead. It started from dreams that seemed to occupy me night after night after night, dreams where images of him and I walking down the aisles in school—hand in hand—would flash all the time, dreams of him and I going to camp together (and even sleeping in the same bed!) when he could actually have roomed with the girl whom he wanted so much to himself, dreams of him and I doing things that could only be done under the influence of a drug named “Love,” seven dreams in totality—which, at that time, seemed really funny, for he was smaller than I was—not to mention almost a year younger! One day, during a special practice for our special graduation ceremony, I was called to sing, and I was surprised to hear the rest of my class taunting him to go upstage! And guess what? He went! It was humiliating enough, and I thought it would end there. But no! The next day, on the real graduation ceremony, in front of all the students and parents and teachers--he went up--on his own will--thinking that he was supposed to be there! That is why every time I hear the song "You Raise Me Up,” I remember him. Oh, I wish I had load to communicate with him again, after he just told me he was free again.

3) Hold an emo photo-shoot of my very own
4) Watch a movie

And to think that I didn't hear from my parents at all!

Now, now, I believe this is getting too long; there shall be nothing more of this from now on. Allow me to conclude that I had a very simple yet fulfilling birthday celebration... after all.

(NOTE: Pictures to come. )