Yesterday I was looking outside my window, staring at the azure sky. There were quite a few feathery clouds; I keep forgetting the name for such types of clouds – My science is rusty. The sun was beaming, scorching, hard, perhaps sending a subtle message that, this, was a sign of the times. There was a flock of pigeons flying up above to wherever their tiny wings could carry them. How I wish I could take flight with them, and escape to some remote tropical island where I could just lounge on a beach chair and enjoy a nice sunset cocktail. On the ground there was a knob of widgeons playing in the mud, taking me back to my yesteryears as a kid. As kids we would play with mud and dirt, but thank the heavens for OMO — our clothes would later on be clean enough to wear on a Sunday. It’s interesting how our senses trigger the hippocampus to release stored memories, playing them in our minds like a highlight reel.

 The four o’clock colonial-era train (just assume I wrote SGR train) was soon passing by near my house, noisily and annoyingly as ever. I wondered what makes me angrier, the sound of the scrappy locomotive, or the thrash metal band ‘Anal Jesus’. And as the train passed by the tracks, I simultaneously had this emo train of thought that made me feel happy about being sad. And by the way, SGR trains are garbage too…

 “I wish I could paint my heart black, because my life is dull and has no meaning. I wish I could have the strength to puncture my heart and deflate the life out of it. I wish I could view the sunset from the cemetery, and lay a wreath of flowers with black-coloured petals on my grave.”

I thought to myself as I looked outside my window, seeing people with faces beaming with joy. Everyone on the outside was as happy as a kid in a candy store. Everyone is always happy but me. I’m sappy!

 I despise this world. This world is not our own – we are merely strangers, passers-by, dwelling in it for a while before we kick the metaphorical bucket. These bodies are not our own either, they are nothing but temporary houses that our souls, or conscience, or spirits – or whichever word you prefer to mean our inner selves – inhabit. These bodies are avatars that our souls use to play this video game called ‘Life’. These bodies are vessels (ships) that our spirits use to navigate through the rough, murky waters of a sea called ‘Earth’, as we set sails for a land that’s only known to the dead. These bodies are extrinsic to us and to be honest, I loathe this body so much I can’t wait to be a cadaver.