Be Strong, Believe

cry.
8:42 AM Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I am sure I sold my soul to Mr. Satan as I agreed to work last night because my bosses cannot find replacement. By the way, to whoever it may concern. My job was/is to tend a pushcart. Aint as easy as you think it is. I just had to agree to work because I did not lock and padlock the pushcart on sunday night. Oh, my. You said it. No excuses, I HAD to work today.

ok. im tired with the right "I"s and the starting caps. you know.

today, being the usual good girl as i always am. i reached there on dot. 11 A.M. sharp. and i waited for like 15 mins then my boss came. =/

then i started opening the pushcart, alone. he was there doing stock taking. oh well i think. and when he left, i was still taking my time to set up the cart. when i tried to bend, the first word that came into my mind is " shit! ". did i tell my bosses that my entire body was aching last night and today i am practically limping? no. i did not. my bad. sigh. i shouldnt have signed that contract with the devil by typing " ok " in my reply last night. afterthought : everytime i walk down the stairs, a sharp jolt of paralysing pain will shoot up my right calf then to my thigh, and lastly my right hip. damned.

after much "shit!"s flashed across my mind, i completed opening the cart within an hour. not too bad for a limping jessica. then i started to stone on the chair. right. patients usually have the habit to sink into a trance for no rhyme or reason. business was bad and all. slow traffic of crowd and i snapped out of my trance when Daya talked to me. THAT was something that made me feel less sick.

then she left me for awhile on a few occasion as she got to serve customers on her side, so i started stoning again. slowly, i lost my vision as i drifted in a comatose state. well, almost. i tried to stay awake. but as long as i stay awake, my body nags at me that it is feeling yucky. that my temples were pulsating. threatening to send me over the edge. cool down jesic, cool down. ugh. i felt nauseous. ERM. DAYA. COVER ME. I GO WASHROOM. pronto! and i stand before the mirror. looking at the reflection. feeling worse than ever. why did i even agree in the first place. fuck i hate myself being so stupid. even so when im a patient.

and so i messaged big stupid. he was so positively sensitive to me being sick and sad, by saying that's what happens when you are sick. THANKS. like i need you to remind me that im sick and working when i have to bend trillions of times to you know, run the damned cart business? the last straw stepped in when he said "you will have just bear with it" when i spit out my phlegm, only to discover that i have blood in it. yes. my phlegm bled. that sms from big stupid, along with the fact i spat blood with phlegm was absolute MAGIC! daya.. i need the toilet again. so i msged big stupid back saying "well im too tired to tell you how tired i were and im suffocating because i cant cry in a public mall." i also suggested i should cry in the toilet. which i did. i went to the toilet. sat on the seat and looked up. waiting to cry. nothing. and the toilet bowl beneath flushed to remind me that i had to get my butt out to work. nice reminder. the wonders of an automatic toilet bowl. tell me about it. =.=

then i messaged my best buddy, assuming school's over for him. and his replies are somewhat retarded. but at that point of time, at least i know you cared. then big stupid's reply was "relax la". just nice i spit out the second round of phlegm and boy it just got even more bloody than you know. imagine curry power added to magnesium hydro-something-super-reactive. KA BOOM! boy did i reply him saying "i have blood in my phlegm and how exactly can i relax during work with strangers staring at me like im some weirdo with a pale face?" huh? huh? and trust him to reply me what blood in phlegm? THE JACKPOT: "what's phlegm?" now now. please visualize jessica not knowing whether to cry or laugh at my cute big stupid's reaction. then i replied him, check up the dictionary for the word and know how bad im feeling. remember. its blood in P-H-L-E-G-M.

ha. the most explicit case was this demented bloke came up to me when im trying to find escape in han jun's loan of the nanny's diaries. CANT HE HAVE THE BLOODY COMMON SENSE TO SEE I WAS NOT OKAY AT ALL TO SERVE HIS NONSENSE? he just went like, boo! then i look up absent-mindedly and he went "WOAH! you scared me." HEY MISTER! i may look sick but its not as if im gonna cough all my germs onto ur distorted freak face right? and so he rattled on like what can he get for his girlfriend. and the most important thing is he works there, can he get a discount?

please! for heaven's sake. which part of me actually do print the word " BOSS " ? imbecile. like i can make decisions like that. and wait. you mean you actually have a girlfriend? given that ugly mug of yours? who are you kidding? im not some newborn you can con you know? talk about being a meanie. im this optimistic today. absolutely.

of course i didnt say all those la. just gave him a feeble smile and tell him all the crap i could muster. but deep down, i was positively bright and gay. just trust me. o.O

then timot asked me to " take care =/" and i could complain to him via sms. but it was going to be 9 i think. so i said its ok. he got sch the next day. point is, thanks. that was sweet. and big stupid finally got a better picture of my condition and asked me to drink more water and take good care. thanks boy. and yeah i drained my nike bottle.

as i finished the book on way back home, tears glistened at the corners of my eyes. i feel like crying. why? i ask my self softly. cause i empathise with the protaganist. meanwhile, you guys may question why am i still online blogging when im tired, sick and truly sad. go sleep. thats the remedy most would shout. lets just say, let this be an act of rebellion.

i want myself to be terminally ill. so the whole world can just stop for a while and pop by just to say, " little buddy, you are dying." yes i honestly want that. i just feel totally unjustified working when im feeling bad in and out; and my illness worsened cause i didnt get to eat my medicine today. i want to just break down and cry. but jessica you are 17. in fact, you are going to turn into 18 in just 5 months and a little more? no way you are going to reduce yourself into a brawling 4-year-old prat. a mess. nono. not okay at all.

i reached home. at the door step, i knocked. mum opened the door as per normal. face as stoned as ever. but as i closed the door. i grimaced and made tiny whines. mum just o.O and asked what? then i rambled on how lousy my day was. how i got blood in my phlegm. how i managed to eat perfectly nothing at all today, including my medicine. then i proceed on whining. tears welling up. mum said, " i cook you something and you WILL take your medicine. " i rejected her offer and continued whining like a brat. till i reached her washroom in her room, sat down heavily. then she said gingerly, " im cooking you mee sua, thats what we ate when we were sick when we were little. " i just kept quiet. she took my silence as consent. and so she cooked. i waited till she turned on the stove in the kitchen then i sobbed. which turned into an audible cry. i cried. cried my heart out.

finally. in a place i call home.

cried and grew.