I just finished a whole tub of ben&jerry's chunky monkey.

I just emo-ed in happiness, staring at the comp screen.

But chunkymonkey has chunks of dark chocolate in it. Bleah, bitter.

I think my analogy of milk chocolate and dark chocolate is damn unrealistic now.

I just emo-ed a whole night.

I just couldn't help it.

And I think I'm more emo than usual now.

I can't pen anything.

-screams-

Everyone is just, changing.

I am too, I guess. But I don't want to.

And sometimes I feel that I don't even know myself anymore.

What's wrong with you, Nicole?

I wrote some emo non-maple fic. Posting it here, cause I've got nothing better to do.

--

I stand in a corner of the platform, under the dim lighting of the MRT station. The moon, nature’s own creation, has abandoned the world, hiding behind a mass of clouds, refusing to appear. The light bulb above me is flickering, and it has been like that for the past week. No one has noticed though, since no one ever comes down to this end as often as I do.

The light source overhead extends its weak glow onto a portion of the tracks, mundane perpendiculars of black and brown meeting on a seemingly endless road to nowhere. Countless blurred figures stand on the same platform as I, yet many compartments away, eagerly awaiting the train’s arrival, eagerly waiting for the train that will bring them home, to their comfort zone, safe and sound. The voices float in the air, dismembered, like souls detached from their worldly bodies; a laugh, a giggle, a chuckle, they sting me like how hot water would on bare, exposed skin.

My life is just like that train track in front of me, it goes straight, it turns, in both directions, and it ends, just like that, at the end of the line. The track is not the smoothest surface around: it has bumps, and along the journey, they can hinder, or even stop the fastest, most powerful of trains.

No one’s life is perfect, but mine probably has to be the most imperfect life ever lived.

My life’s track has just met a dead end; the unevenness is just unbearable. Around me, people are happy: the holidays have reached their mid-point. Christmas is coming: almost everywhere is decked in red and green, the festive mood nearing full swing. Families are out, shopping together. They smile, they enjoy themselves, and as I watch, I smile too, my jealousy more than apparent.

I have been here for the past hour. Many trains have passed me, but I have reasonable reluctance to head home.

My home is a big mess, my family, a disaster. They argue everyday, and I hear everything, even though I always hide under the blanket and try to block it out. It’s only a matter of time before the legal formalities take place, during which I will be treated like a possession, a thing, just another object to be fought over, like the car and the house. I know my dad will probably win, seeing that he’s the breadwinner and all. I’ll have to live with her then, and as far as I’m concerned, all stories about cruel step-mothers are true.

School reopens in a month, but my holiday homework still remains untouched, collecting dust in my school bag. It’s hard to focus on your work when it’s so chaotic, and I don’t intend on handing in a piece that has been haphazardly done.

What’s this thing with triple science anyway? Does it mean that since I take only Biology and Chemistry, a double science combination, I’m labeled as less capable than those who opt for all the sciences? Maybe this education system really has a huge flaw in it: making children study their childhood away, studying just so their parents can boast about their achievements, studying at the expense of forsaking their present lives?

Maybe it’s because of this, my unique perception, that I’m ostracized by everyone: my classmates, my peers?

Come to think of it, I don’t have many, no wait; I don’t have a single friend whom I can regard as close. Behind the superficiality of all the different cliques, now that’s where everything happens, where backstabbing and the like are rife. Everything takes place right under their noses, and yet, the teachers hardly do anything, continuing to pick their favourites and turn a blind eye to their misdeeds. Not so, however, to those who get into their bad books.

Underneath the surface, past the goody-two-shoes exteriors lies the complicated world of teenage romance and relationships. They say the teenage years are a time to try new things, to experiment, yet when it comes to boy/girl relationships, parents firmly believe their children are simply not ready to handle their fluctuating emotions and raging hormones themselves.

I thought they were wrong, but I guess it shows just how naïve I am. What was I thinking? That a teenage relationship, nothing but puppy love, would be able to last all the way till we reached adulthood?

It was bound to end sooner or later, but why did it have to be this way? I feel so betrayed, so cheated, knowing I was simply a rebound and nothing more. I really thought it was true love, I really did.

Then I found out you wanted someone else, someone that your friends would approve of, someone that would fit perfectly with society’s norms.

Isn’t everything today just so fixed? They tell us to be creative, to think outside the box, and yet, they lock us inside these boxes and seal them up with tape. Anyone who dares to escape, who dares to stand out and be different, who dares to be him or herself, is considered weird and is alienated, albeit subtly.

If you’re happy I should be happy for you, but forcing myself to smile is tiring, especially when my heart has been damaged; the shattered pieces are still trying to fix themselves back together, trying to recreate the whole shape, but like a broken vase that has been mended, cracks will remain, a painful reminder, a living testimony.

Gosh, I’m laughing, I think to myself as my eyes begin to water. My life is so screwed; there’s no reason for me to live. No one cares, no one has and no one will. So why don’t I just end it, right here, right now? My track of life, bound for a collision course, ended here, on a train track?

The track’s right there; just one jump and it’ll be all over.

Two headlights flash in the distance; the train is arriving. The track beckons, calling out my name almost teasingly. It looks so inviting, so welcoming, so mesmerizing…

“For your own safety, please stand behind the yellow line.”

A computerized voice suddenly cuts through my thoughts, pulling me out of my daze and back into cruel reality. For the first time, I notice that my feet are at the platform edge and I freeze, unable to move. I hear voices from behind me; a huge crowd of people are standing at the normally isolated platform corner.

The train is nearing, and I hold my stance, unmoving, rooted to the ground. The jostling behind me gets more intense, as the other commuters attempt to push their way to the front.

Someone untangles his hand from the crowd and it jerks forward, knocking into my back. I stumble, losing my balance, falling straight onto the tracks. Only this time, it isn’t the comforting abode I saw earlier, but instead, a dark pit, threatening to swallow everything that falls into its clutches.

Shock overwhelms me as I kneel there, stunned. With each passing second, the distance between me and the long, metal snake decreases, yet each second seems like nothing less than infinity.

The last thing I see are two bright, yellow lights approaching, before the darkness consumes me.

--

Is this heaven? But I didn’t believe in god…

I squint, eyes struggling to adapt to the piercing white lights in the room. Everything I see is blurry, but I can make out the shapes of the two other people in the room.

Blinking hard, my vision begins to clear, and I see both of them, one on either side of my bed. They aren’t making eye contact, but they aren’t arguing, and that’s good.

Neither makes a sound, since they don’t know that I’m awake yet. Before I can say anything, however, he gestures to the door, and they both leave me alone in the cold, white room.

The sounds that I’m all too familiar with make their way into the room and disrupt the silence, circling me, taunting me.

I turn away from the door, not even caring to mask the tears that come falling down, rushing from my eyes like fast-flowing rivers, headed towards the unknown.

I would be better off dead.