My confession

On September 8th, 2007, 4.30 am, I was sent to Accident & Emergency by Han whereby I waited for 45 minutes before receiving treatment. From the haze of sight, my head was throbbing, I could outline the anger in his face – the worries and also the disappointment – what have I done to myself? I conceded more harm to myself and further jeopardy to my already faltering relationship.

The reason – I was not happy to be back here or more like I was not ready to be back in Manchester. The flight ticket was bought in rush, I left my mind, soul and happiness back home. I came back expecting my boyfriend-then to be happy – but he had more in mind than me. He was not supportive, he was not caring towards my feeling, we argued from day 1, day 2 and that night – I was too weak to overcome the devil.

Being a medical student, Han told me I might be referred to the Psychiatric ward for what I had done – but I knew what I did was although unacceptable, was just ‘my moment’ – I chalked up a story – a make believe so true, I will buy it myself.

She asked me and I told her my version of the story.

I was put on drips – to make me nauseas to regurgitate them out. I had to be monitored for 12 hours, to put on 1000ml of drips per hour – imagine how those water cleaned my blood and liver.

I could feel the burning sensation in my liver – Han almost never left my side, until I told him to go. I scared him. I couldn’t believe I did that to myself, to him or to even my family. But I did what I did and I made him promise me to never speak a word to a soul about it.

But here I am telling you, because if there is anything that I might do it again, because losing my job is not only because I lost my job, I lost all hopes, I lost my self-confidence, I lost my parents’ trust, expectations and reliability.

The truth is I took twenty six paracetamol – ten a time, eight and then eight.

Because I am suicidal

tip-toes.

As I trailed along Market Street down to Deansgate, my mind provoked with thundering thoughts and unanswered questions, the MEN newspaper man handed me a copy and I smiled, a soft unhearty smile – one of which only an unemployed graduate will bear, i heaved a small sigh and walked out, he greeted me goodbye with a ‘Have a good day you love!’. His teeth was stained, yellow, almost black, his hair was greasy, and his fingers were tainted with black charcoaled dirt. Yet, he was happy, yet he was determined to find a job, even as a newspaper man.

Then, I gazed dreamily down the cobbled-stones street of Manchester – probably the busiest street of all day, people trafficking your way, mothers with pram, men in suit, women in heels, Manc-scullys (what we call them) in Ugg boots-look-alike, kids with ice-cream and those random Chinese people shouting their way through a conversation, plus you hear the occasion Big Issue sellers yelling ‘Big Issue!’ and there I was wandering and wondering my life away. Amidst the noisy street, I could only hear words of disgrace and wrath towards myself in my head. The devil was speaking.
Another kind man approached me and shoved a ‘Big Issue’ magazine to me, I shook my head – he smiled ‘Have a nice day love!‘. He gritted his teeth and he does not have the front four teeth – he was scrawny and gaunt – probably on coke, i reckon.

I looked at myself, clad in a Zara jacket, Zara bag, crisp white Zara shirt with a pleated skirt, black tights in Vincci heels and my face was sewn in gloom. But underneath the sad face, I was powdered with Lancome serum, Derma moisturiser, Stila sunscreen, Lancome foundation, Lancome mascara, Lancome blusher, wearing Gucci perfume – and why am i moaning my life away when I possibly have everything and the best of all to me, compared to kids in Burma, the dead in China? The men down the street?

If a Big Issue man, if a MEN Newspaper man can get jobs, why can’t I?

Afterall, I am a graduate, 22 years old, with a fluorescent CV, slightly experienced – amazing interpersonal skills. I should be grateful, thankful for all the things. But I am not.

Why?

The sound,wise man

His name is Alexander Stevenson D’netto. The name Alex means Defender of Men, and always heard, Alexander the Great. Indeed, he is a great man. One whom I turn to for advices, a man who speak the wise, listen attentively and make you think hard.

He asked me if going home would make me happy.

He asked me if going home is what I really want.

He then also asked me if going home will make me miss what I think I could have achieved here.

He proceeded in asking me do I miss any progression of work at home.

To which all first three I answered Yes, and the latter No.

‘Fairly obvious. You already know what you want.’ He said.

‘But there is nothing for me to be here anymore. There is no reason to why I want to stay here for, at least not anymore‘ I responded.

‘If there isn’t, you will not miss being here and what you think you can achieve if say you do stay here. There is something for you now – your career, work. Maybe not friends, maybe not family, maybe not a boyfriend – but work‘ He answered.

My mind took a little wander, and I knew what he said was right. I have always, always wanted to stay here eversince I decided to work here. I have always wanted a bright future. I should not, ever, ever let my dream falter over a silly phase.

It is just because I have always had things thrown into for me, always had something laid out for me. This is just a turmoil, a path that I have to walk. And I believe, if I do try a little harder, breathe a little stronger, I will get through

After all, my name is Chee Lim and I’m known for being the determined, strong, ambitious girl.

A cold chilly warm summer day

I feel a little bit better today after spending the night with Yee Lyn.

She came down to see me. And her presence and company lifted my spirit a little bit. We talked the night away until we both fell asleep, and we woke up talking again. The feeling of having someone dear to you, a friend I may say, is amazing, falling asleep knowing that you will wake up with somebody next to you.

The chill from the breeze, yet it was soothing and warming from the inside, having a dear old friend, telling you to get over your past, and look forward to the future. I need to stop reliving in my fantasy world.

In fact, I don’t. I am one of the most realistic person of all times. Because I don’t believe in dreams – I look towards the future that’s who I am.

Neil rang again at 5.23am. To ask me how my day was, to have a go at me. To tell me he doesn’t wish to speak to me no more. He’s nasty and abusive when he’s drunk. I don’t blame him because of two incidents that I did behind his back. It’s alright for him to feel insecure, it’s alright for him to be sensitive, at least for now I know, he likes me enough to feel like that.

The unsaid words

My small little mind is clouded.

The unsaid words, the painful memories and the pondering thoughts all crammed in my tiny brain, suffocated. If given a choice, I would do things differently and strive unceasingly for the success that I used to have.

My job, Neil and ICAS.

When I once had them all.