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With considerable effort, the evanescent memory surfaces from an ocean of thoughts. It was during the embryonic stage of my secondary school life. Being ever so averse to change, adapting to an entirely different environment was, it seemed to me at that time, an onerous odyssey. I was still reminiscing about the colourful life in my alma mater and hadn' t really accepted the absence of the opposite gender. Of course, there were the execrable she-males that have become the hallmarks of elite institutions. That was another minus point. Therefore, I found my peevish and mischievous temperament not inexcusable.

And so, a particular boy happened to be on the receiving end of my devilish side. As many of my cronies can attest to, my skills of annoyance and condescension are top drawer. They weren' t something I would be proud of exactly, but it has become a unique personality trait that many of my cronies feel ambivalent about. To go into the nitty-gritties of how I tormented him would muddy the gentlemanly disguise I have fought tooth and nail to preserve all these years. So, I would not encumber the readers with the unnecessary information.

Parody of parodies, as time dissolved, a frienship was forged. A paradox - in which foes turned into friends. How it had developed was unclear to me, but the camaraderie and brotherliness were unmistakable.

Then, time did its vanishing act, and a little less than four years fleeted by. It would be absolutely apposite to quip "Time flies" at that very moment. Whether the bond withstood the test of time, it was hard to figure out. There were too many variables. In fact, the only invariable was variation. "Time would tell," they say. It wouldn't on this occasion.

He had his issues, his troubles, and his vexations. We understood that he was probably slightly different, and he was grappling with his vertiginous life. That wasn't his fault. The previous generation should be shouldering the blame and make amends accordingly. Not him. That was why we tolerated his foibles. Nobody is perfect. We could accept that. However, he wanted to be perfect. For so long, he felt like a mote -- aimless and insignificant. Each minute movement of his is dictated by the gusts and draughts. He had no control over his unenviable life. "This has to stop," he told himself.


He wanted change. He resented the staus quo. Therefore, he began to formulate his own perfectionist philosophy. He set himself unattainable goals and endeavoured towards them. He tried to put on a brave front, and even acted egocentric. Deep down inside, he was quietly wallowing in self-pity for his inadequacies. At that juncture, there was no question he was inching towards the cliff of insanity.


Insanity works like gravity -- all you need is a push. And the push did come eventually, unfortunately. Attending a series of workshops, which purports to elevate your self-esteem, was the perfect recipe for disaster. By the time we realized it, it was too little too late. He had already gone up and over the edge. There was no turning back. Only a bottomless pit looming ahead of him.

As he sinks further into the pit, we stand hunched over on top, extending our helping hand. But, he chooses to ignore it because he is too ashamed to accept our aid, maybe? Or he could be blind to our hospice for it is pitch black inside? We don't know.

Presently, if I were to meet him, I wouldn't know how to react. He is like a stranger to me. Not someone I can understand truly and deeply. It is ironic how human beings are subjected to the caprice of Fate. We start off as strangers, and we end as strangers.

Then, I came to a rude awakening. We cannot expect each and every relationship to be long-lasting, much less eternal. He has let us go, why not we reciprocate? Maybe we should live and let live. He will be asphyxiating if we hold on to him.

Maybe we should forgive and forget, as the saying goes. Not that he needs to beg for any forgiveness. He has done no wrong.

Maybe? Not anymore. Surely, we should.