Blue

The slow sinking to the state madness is an awful thing to watch...

This is my entry for 2008 Commonwealth Writing Competition, an essay entitled "Blue". (Turns out it didn't even leave the school.) I was very much inspired by Stephen King and Roald Dahl while writing this; their short stories are just so simple, yet eerie.

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The sea is a dazzling, scintillating topaz; droplets of water catch the sunlight and turn it into a thousand little rainbows. White foam edges the waves, like delicate lace on a beautiful dress. In the distance, ships and boats dot the waters.

The sky is only a shade paler than the sea; few clouds float in the azure sky hanging overhead. Seabirds sweep the sky, patrolling the waters in hopes of fish.

Sitting on the fine, sandy shore, staring into the horizon, where the sky and sea seems to meet, and stretch on for infinity, it is hard to believe that unhappiness and pain can exist in this world.

The chatter of nearby picnickers and joggers seems distant and muffled, compared to the roar of the waves as they rise and crash rhythmically on the shore, only to ebb away and rise again.

I sit there with Eva for a long time, both of us silently gazing out to the sea, but time seems to pass too quickly, as the next thing I know, the sky has deepened and the sun is sinking.

The sea isn’t a blue topaz anymore, it’s a dark sapphire blue and studded with tiny diamonds; reflections of the first stars that have graced the sky. The chatter on the beach begins to die down as time slips by. I am glad; after all, I need no witnesses to the heinous act I am about to commit.

I sound melodramatic, even to myself.

I gaze at the sea again; it’s darkened to a deep, inky blue-black. I glance around and no one is in sight. I don’t need a watch to know that’s it’s time.

“I’m scared,” I confess to Eva, as I get up to brush the sand off my clothes.

She nods seriously, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “I know. But you know you have to do it.”

“Yes,” I reply sadly. “I know.”

I head out to the pier. The tide is coming in, and the waves are choppier than usual. A storm is coming.

I put my bag on the cement floor. “Please make sure Mom and Dad get this,” I tell her.

“Okay.”

“Tell them-“My voice breaks as I fight off the ever-ready tears. “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I’m sorry that I let them down.”

I had always been expected to be as good as my siblings, ever since I was born. My older brother was a doctor; my sister won a scholarship to university overseas. As the youngest child, I was expected to be just like them. No, better than them. It would be nothing if I won a scholarship, nothing if I became a doctor, because they had done it first. I had to be better than them to receive any praise, a nod of approval, or a “congragulations”.

I did alright in Primary School. I studied hard, and almost always was top in school.

Things changed when I entered secondary school. My grades dropped, ever so slightly during the first term, then plummeted.

And finally, I hit rock-bottom.

That is why I sit on the fine golden shore, staring at the blue sea. How could I, or any student, go home and see the looks of disappointment in my parent’s faces? How could I let them down?

The sea is blue, just as blue as I feel; only it is so beautiful. I’m not beautiful. I’m not intelligent. I can’t sing, dance, act, play the piano or do anything right.

I can’t do anything right.

It would be better if I - I wouldn’t be a burden -

Better for everyone if I was gone

Wouldn’t be a burden to them, to anyone

Everyone would be glad I was dead

Wouldn’t need to disappoint them anymore

Wouldn’t disappoint anyone

I’m sorry ma, pa

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Sorry to be a burden

I’m sorry

Sorry to be a disappointment, sorry, sorry, sorry… So sorry…

“Are you ready?” Eva asks me quietly, jerking me out of my stupor.

I inhale deeply. “Yes.”

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

I climb over the safety railings and jump.

The water is cold; I sink down, down, my hair and clothes dragging me down. The sea isn’t blue, I realise that now. It is a dark, murky grey; the blue is just an illusion. That gorgeous blue I had admired for so long is just an illusion.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

I kick down, forcing myself under, deeper, deeper into the deceptive grey water, searching for that blue…

Sorry to be so much trouble

A glimpse of blue light in the water…My blue light, the blue I loved so much... Kicking down towards it…

Sorry to let you down

The blue is getting brighter, more distinct

Sorry to let you all down

There. Not just my blue.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Hundreds, thousands of beautiful shades of blue, cool and pleasant.

Sorry to be alive.

The only rest after this turbulence, an oasis of calm in the raging desert

So sorry.

I reach it, and my lungs burst.

Sorry.

“Name, Sarah Tan. Age, thirteen. Cause of death,” The young officer paused, his hand shaking a little. “Suicide.”

It was always hard when youths committed suicide, always so hard, especially when he looked at their profiles; all of them so young and strong, their futures bright. And they decided to end it all, by their own hands.

Thirteen. She hadn’t even had the chance to do anything, hadn’t had the chance to live before she died.

Sarah’s parents were upset of course; Sarah had been their only daughter. They found her bag at a jetty at East Coast Park. Her body was discovered almost twelve hours later.

It was always painful to ask parents to identify the corpses of their children. To examine the corpse, knowing that there was a possibility that one’s own flesh and blood could be dead.

No one wanted that.

Sarah’s body had been swollen, bloated by the time they found her, her skin blue and bits of her flesh missing, as fishes had nibbled at her before they managed to rescue the body.

Mrs. Tan had burst into tears, screaming that the corpse wasn’t her daughter; Sarah would never commit suicide, never. Mr. Tan identified her quickly and quietly, his voice shaking as he said “Yes”, his hands trembling as they took hold of his hysterical wife and left.

The officer decided that now wasn’t the time to tell Mr. and Mrs. Tan about what they found in Sarah’s bag. There was a test paper, she had scored a B4. Tear stains had caused the paper to run.

Then there was a note, the words “Sorry” covering every bit of space on it. In miniscule writing was “Please don’t blame Eva, it wasn’t her fault.”

Then her diary, page after page of tears and complaints, comparing herself older siblings that she never had, stories of her friend Eva had cut themselves, how her madness had progressed to suicide…

No, he decided that Sarah’s parents didn’t need to know all that, not now. What they needed now was for the news to sink in, for acceptance.

He didn’t realize he was being watched. A girl with long black hair and blue eyes, eyes as blue as the sea and as bright as stars against a night sky.

She smiled and walked away.