.: asylum for the sane :.

My hands and fingers are feeling numb. The last time this happened, I passed out in my kitchen soon after.

I remained sick and weak for weeks. I was so afraid I was going to die, or be paralyzed and most importantly losing my independence.

I remember when I woke up from passing out, I still felt numbness in my hands. And I was frightened at losing my memory. So I silently recited to myself: the alphabet, my birthday, lex’s and my anniversary, celebrity birthdays, lyrics – anything and everything that convinced me that I haven’t lost my brain matter.

I still remember the fear I had in me that day, and the weeks after that when I was recovering. I feared unable to do things by myself, to have to rely on others. I couldn’t stand the thought of it.

That was the closest I had to dying in my adult life. But I am no stranger to death.

In fact, the reason why I am still alive and the intelligent (yes I am) and creative individual that I am boils down to my neighbours who were doctors.

Had they not rushed me to the hospital, beating all the red lights – I would have been dead or at best brain dead. And did I mention that I was only 6 months old when that happened?

6 months, not 6 years. What could a 6 month old know about? Nothing. And there I was so close to death. I always wonder what would have happened, if I didn’t pull through then. Or sometimes, I wonder why did I pull through? Is there a reason? Was it a sign that I am a very strong person, even as a baby?

And then as I grew up, there are times when I wonder – what would it be like to die young? Would I be one of those people who died in their teens? Even now, I keep wondering things like – Would I be one of those people who die in their 20s?

Morbid I know, but I can’t help it.

For one thing, I have never pictured myself as an old lady. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t imagine it. And we all know how crazy my imagination can get, so it scares me a little to not be able to even visualize how I’d look like maybe 40 years down the road. or even 20 years.

Perhaps it has to do with me afraid of getting old, I’ve blogged about it before. But it’s like the Flash Forward show. The guy who couldn’t see 6 months into his future – might be dead in 6 months.

Or perhaps it’s my child-like nature that prevents me from imagining things that adults and elderly go through. Like how some people stay forever young?

Whatever it is, everybody has got to go someday whether they like it or not. And as Dumbledore said, “Death is but the next great adventure!”

Maybe I’ll die before 30, or at the ripe age of 75 or just nice at 50. Whatever it is, I just hope to live my life to the fullest and leaving behind traces that do make a difference in people’s life, no matter how insignificant it may be.

Life is a riddle, and life is fragile. Maybe I survived the ordeal at 6 month old, because I am meant to do something great. Or perhaps I was given a chance to start my life on a new slate. There has to be a reason why I survived, because everything happens for a reason.