Pluvial Waters

“One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.” — by Edvard Munch, Nice 22 January 1892


About one and half year ago, when I transited to college, the first impact hit me and I was mildly shocked but after realising that this impact was ubiquitous amongst everyone, I ousted it almost immediately.

Nine months later, the second impact came and I winced at the iota of discomfort that undulated throughout my body. I despise it and I swore to never feel the pain again.

Then, there is this year, where the third impact rammed onto me, it was swift and brutal. I shrieked at the sudden surged of unprecedented agony, and because of that I had insomnia accompanying me for several nights. Once again, I swore to overcome my natural dearth of tolerance.

Yet three months later, as I braced myself waiting for yet another impact to slam onto me, I found out that the pain stung but did not do as much damage as those aforementioned. Encouraged by this miracle, I for once had hopes of minimising, or if not better, eschewing the pain.

And finally, three months later another impact hit me. It was expected. This time, I did not even wince, did not even curse, did not even tear. This time, I remember the darkness and the cold taking over my fatigue physique and consciousness, remember falling, gracefully, deep into the pluvial waters of a quasi-mythological ocean, and becoming a denizen of the deep.   .


And as I write this piece, which should serve as a forewarning that the last impact has yet to hit, and it can be avoided, I am reminded of my abhorrent attitude, on how frail I am, and how strong I can possibly be. It then dawned on me that this is the price to pay for my acts of folly — the flaunting, the procrastination, the lack of willpower. I wonder who will be able to extricate me from this entanglement, this chaos, this diabolical scenario.

She said to have faith because we are smart.

And deep down I so fervently want to ask, what is faith?


One thought on “Pluvial Waters

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s