::ME::
In a place of voidness, I need colours. Blue, Red, Green.
May the colours tell of a story that will not let me regret.
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Friday, December 7, 2007
Condolences...
'Hi, I'm from Bedok Police Station.'
I knew it. 2 months ago. A middle aged Chinese local jumped. Outside my house, at the corridor. 3rd floor. How much of a loser can he get? He died. 4 days later in the hospital, CGH. 2 months. How long does it take for 'post-mortem' and stuff? Too long. He has a family. Wonder how they will cope.
How much does it take, to be pushed over THE line? Sanity and madness has only a line in between. I just finished a book. 'For One More Day' by Morris Allen. It's about a guy who committed suicide and in his coma, he spent one final day with his deceased mum. He lived of course. It was a life of regrets. But the story doesn't have much link to the man anyway.
3rd floor. It kills. Just to jump over the 3rd floor. The policewoman who took my statement said, 'You can never tell by the height of the jump. Some people jump from 11th floor still can get up and go to the hospital themselves. But they died soon after.' Yes. My STATEMENT! I saw the tip of the man's head walking by my corridor 2 times. So I was an EYEWITNESS. Well, not really. I didn't see or hear him jump. But I know. Cause he died. Suiciders go to hell, or so I heard. Because life is not treasured. How about suicide bombers?
I don't feel much. I wasn't shocked too when I heard he died. I felt, it was a waste. A waste.
A life was thrown. Down to hell?
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