P.S.

I could note sleep again last night. I was tired physically and emotionally, I assure you that. I had been talking to myself in my room the whole day while I was studying the paper titled "The ABC of ADC". I got excited getting to know how to convert analog numbers to binary numbers. Something which trembled me when I was in high school. No matter how many times my Physics olympiad trainer explained it to us, it just did not knock any sense to my head. And I looked around myself then, all my peers said oooh and aaah, some nodded, they all understood those blar blar blargh that my trainer did. I hope I would never face any binary thing anymore in my life ever since then.

It was not important at all for my thesis but there was this urge inside of me that push me to understand how people do that. And I did it! I converted 51 to 110011 and 156, any number you name it! I told myself: "See brain DOES develop!"

I talked to myself, trying to explain the things that I did not understand to myself, some part of me was like a coach. It's like Rocky's coach (what's his name) "Damn it, Brig. You are repeating yourself all over and over again. Think, woman, think!".

I would stroll around my room and walked as if I were thinking of something serious. I was trying to make sense of how the error of my data reading should be something that the paper wrote. And then I went to the washroom. I washed my hand and looked at my own face in the mirror. I put acne gels that made a series of white polka dots especially on my chin and my forehead.

I could not believe it, I was flirting with myself. I really said it there , "Hey, you actually look pretty with those acne gel polka dot."

Then I went back to my room, and looked at myself on the mirror. I didn't look pretty, I was all messed up. I yelled at myself, "SCREW BEAUTIFUL. I HAVE CHARACTERS. IF YOU WANT TO PLEASE ME, COMPLIMENT MY CHARACTERS."

Phew. Then I talked to myself again. I think I just like hearing myself talk. I hate silence. Not that awkward silence when you were with other people you were not comfortable with. I hate my own silence. And I really shut myself up when I am with someone else. Or I think , it was not me talking.

It was 12 pm. Time to sleep.

It had been two hours since I took my night pill. It was not working again. I tried to remember what my doctor said. Just rest, even if you cannot sleep.

But icky thoughts came upon me that I can't get rid of.

My room was all dark. But I had gotten used to with the darkness. I saw the fan and thinking of slicing my head with its blades like how they slice silicon wafer tube.

I turned off the fan so I could stop thinking about opening up my skull. Now I lied down on my bed. Closing my eyes. I lied on my back and opened up my hands because of the heat. Then it reminded me of the position with which people who fell down from stories were found.

Icky thoughts came upon me. You need to climb enough stories to make sure you die.

I changed my position. Now I lied on my side. my head rest on my left hand. Then I was thinking of getting a razor blade from Guardian and cut my left wrist. If it were my right wrist, I might not be able to write or draw anymore if I did not die.

I don't know. I did not intend to die.

And the thoughts of blood drenching all over my bed and room, made me feel tired because then I have to wipe it all clean and wash the blood stain from my bed sheet. No, I have no time for that.

Icky thoughts, I begged thee to go.

I wrapped myself deep into my blanket. and then I imagined strangling myself with my blanket. I looked at the ceiling, realizing there were not any single post where I could hang the clothes. If it were any, it would be the door. But such an ill thing for my neighbors to wake up to see a dead body hanging in the morning.

I was tired of all of these. I looked at the Winnie the Pooh calendar I got for myself earlier this year. I was wondering if I would still be alive in November. What a trouble it would cause if I really had the gut to do such stupid stuffs that I thought about. How would the rest of my family carry on with their lives.

And if I did not die, I would have to stay in the hospital or psych ward for some days. How much that would cost me. And I still did not submit my thesis too. And I lost my only job offer after my prof found out what a sick person I was.

I don't have to be happy, I just need to stay alive, right. And what do people know about happiness? It all feels so surreal to me. I am not sure anymore if I were ever feeling genuinely happy in my life. Or perhaps I just forgot how it feels. Or perhaps the term is being overused. Nobody is happy. Everyone is too stupid to realize that what they feel is not happiness. It is a mere delusion. That's why ignorance is a bliss. My biggest fear in life is to be stupid. I AM stupid right now, but why am I not feeling happy yet?

That means I am smart.

OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!

Oh help me make me die in my sleep