"When you learn how to die, you learn to how live"

I was reading "Tuesdays with Morrie" when I came across this line. Strangely, I seem to be able to relate to this. I remembered one day in JC year 2 when I was told coldly in the face that I was tested slightly positive in Hep B. My world seemed to come crushing down on me. I've never had a more serious illness than the occasional bout of flu, not even chicken pox, or anything that warrant more than a trip to the GP. That was when I felt that there's an expiry date to life. It really didn't matter anymore to me if I couldn't complete assignments on time, get that distinction or the newest gadget on the market.

Life came to a standstill personally for me. Things went on as usual for everybody else. It just stopped for me. I began to pay more attention to things around me that I have taken for granted. The noise from the TV in the living room became comforting cos' on days when my family wasn't in town, the flat would seem so cold and silent without the TV on. I felt as though I didn't have the courage to live with an illness and for that moment, really felt like ending my life.

At that point in time, I reached out for my phone and messaged Ah Tut for the fun of it and told her that the doctor told me that I had 2 weeks' left or something like that. She was shocked and got worried. On hindsight, it was really a cruel joke to play on someone else.

The next day when I went to collect the lab results, I was told that I have been tested negative for Hep B. The incident changed the way I look at life and suddenly, I became more sober. I stopped imagining myself in the paper chase, and burst the bubble I had built around myself.

A few years down the road, I look back on my life and I think I have no regrets. I used to tell myself that pursuing a Masters degree in geog would be my greener pastures, and I was working in hell. Things aren't that bad actually... I think of ah bian, one of the 'girls' whom was put in my charge. I recall the days when I would make her sit in front of me and repeat "I will only do the right things." because she is easily influenced and often gets herself into trouble. She is no longer getting into trouble and being punished. I'm not sure if the sessions I had with her helped. Nonetheless, she would always come up to me and thank me each time I bump into her these days. When she didn't see me, she would pass the message to others who would then relay the message to me.

Did I help to change a life? Sometimes I wish I could make her sit down and tell her that I'm really touched that she has improved and learned how to behave, that I really wish the best for her and it is not too late to live a meaningful life, whatever that is meaningful for her. I wish I could be at the door to give her a hug when she's finally stepping out, to give her the strength and courage to move on with life. To tell her that she owe it to herself that she's now a changed and free person. But I never had the time to stop to say more than a few sentences to her, nor would our rules permit me to give her a hug whatsoever.

There is never enough time for the healthy, living ones. When we realised that time is running out, we replace the working-our-ass-off-for-nothing-much with courage to live out of days. Then, we may realise that it is too late and there's no turning back the clock.

Tut told me not to sms him but I really want to tell him that the sms that he sent hurts because he matters to me. When I was nearly involved in a near-collision on Sat night, I thought that life's too short to hold back things that you want to say. How close we were to death? I was at the wheel and it made me feel ashamed that I was responsible for three other lives in my car. How different would the world be today if we didn't make it that night? Chances are, there wouldn't be any difference. The sun would still rise and set. The aunties would still be doing their marketing, the cars would still be on the streets, the shopping centres would still be packed despite our lives lost.

Perhaps one day, I would tell him that. Not now.