So it's Christmas Eve. I suppose it's time for the customary holiday greetings of Merry Christmas, so Merry Christmas, my pathetically few readers. It's term break and we have 2 weeks of holidays, which we are currently in the first week of. Much progress has been made on my YouTube deficit and I already have videos piling on. The girl is making me watch Doctor Who, How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory. Great because I've always wanted to watch them and now I don't have to go look for it but then bad because that's a ton of shit to watch. But that's not the point of this post and I won't bore you with my extremely ordinary life.
Just before I started writing this, I had a thought, that one shouldn't have too high hopes or else when the reality hits that it just isn't so, you won't be too disappointed. That made me realise how much of a pessimist I was. How little faith I had. How dead I was inside. And how deeply hollow I am. I feel so... dead. That's really the only way I can think of to summarise it. Allow me to explain.
My grandmother raised me from young. Since I've had cognitive function, she was the one who bathed me and cooked for me and washed my clothes, all the typical jazz. That's pretty much 10 years of my life that I spent with her. And when she died a little more than a year ago, I felt absolutely nothing. No emotion at all, no joy, no sadness. There was only emptiness. The nothingness was absolute when the news came that she had died alone in a hospital in Johor Bahru, when she was still alive and well 3 days before when I visited and a week before she was sent to live in an old folks' home in JB.
It was so unexpected to me that she could have died when she was such a strong person who could go on and on and fucking on about pointless shit decades ago and had such a powerful voice, the Nords would have thought she possessed the Thu'um. The emptiness matched the emptiness of the house, which was not filled with her droning when I came back home from school. My heart was calm and still. I'm not sure if it was a coping mechanism that I completely feel nothing or I have already come to terms with death since not having a father from young or was it that I am an actually really heartless person.
Similarly, my sister was also hit with appendicitis some time 3 years ago. She endured great pains and woke up one morning blind from it, well not really, she just couldn't see anything even with her eyes open. Not sure how that could have been derived from a dead rotting vestigial organ in her body but okay. And so she was hospitalised. Not once did I visit her. Nor that time my granny fell down a slope returning home from buying my lunch and cracked her head and bled. Did not visit either. Was I worried? No. I wasn't. I absolutely wasn't.
Shit, I really don't know. On one hand, death is inevitable. But to feel absolutely nothing when it comes knocking is a different matter altogether. I wouldn't say I'm an impressionable person either. Each time, more and more is needed to elicit some sort of reaction from me. If it's not bigger or better than the last time, I won't be impressed or amused.
Emotions emotions emotions, I wonder if I have any at all sometimes. As I am writing this, I am feeling empty. So so empty.
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