I saw lizards scurrying across the ceiling, spiderwebs in the corners of the doors,
This place was mortifying.
I couldn't bear the sight of it, the smell of it, the dark paranoia it seemed to invoke with the shadows as its puppets.
The way the shadows moved, whether it was myself or a simple moth, seemed to strongly send messages to me to stay out of here.

But my parents begged to differ,
"Yeah, looks good."
"Perfect."

Even my grandfather, who I later found out had introduced the place to them, nodded in approval.

Why were we moving? I was too small to understand.
And the memories of my first visit there were blurring in my mind, making the idea of moving mildly interesting.
I liked my lifestyle there, I didn't really feel like moving.
But I vaguely remember sitting at the back of our Jeep, headed for Jalan Permai, Robson Heights.
A grand mansion, atop a hill,
It was everything I had seen in all the Disney movies.
I don't know if it was just my young memories, or whether the explaination was obvious t everyone but a 3 year old,
But we suddenly had a whole bunch of stuff I never dreamed of having!
I don't recall ever being present in the house on moving day, which even more so left me "wow"ing to myslf.

As we drove up the driveway in our family jeep, I saw the moving van already leaving,
and my aunties and uncles had parked their cars and were already in the house, I was not sure why.
Looking back on it now, it was probably a housewarming.
Our driveway was like the mansion ; massive.
It could perfectly fit close to 8 cars.

When we entered the house, I remember running up the spiral staircase to the 2nd floor.
The staircase had green, fluffy cotton carpetting, and wooden railings that seemed to be baby-proofed so I wouldn't fall out from the side or get stuck.

Everything was all planned out beforehand.
Nothing was as I remembered.
As I arrived on the second floor, I stood smack in the middle of a corridor.
I looked towards where I had been so frightened on the first visit.

The walls were nice and white, no webs, no lizards, every door seemed to be finished with polish and were squeak-free.

I examined more of the second floor.
To my left, were 2 rooms, one was made a guest room, one was for my mom's colleague, Sandy.
I entered the rooms, starting with Sandy's first.
She had a decent bed, pink velvet.
The bathroom was so quaint, with its blue ceramic tiles and faux granite countertops.
It was so neat.
But Auntie Sandy wasn't in yet so I didn't want to be rude and snoop around.
I left and examined the other room.
The same room that just a few nights ago I had found to be unsanitary and haunted.

It was completly empty, except for white walls and a cupboard.
It still made me feel uneasy.
It looked like an insane asylum.

I exited with haste and proceeded down the corridor to the kitchen, a good 20 meters away from the door of the "insane asylum".
The corridor was made in a way that you could look down off the left and see whats going on downstairs.
Our house had lots of windows too, which made light beam in, making everything even more cozy and serene.

The kitchen had this rustic appearance to it.
There was a dining rotunda, 2 sinks and a small counter with cupboards to store wine, beer or other beverages.
The dining rotunda was placed on a balcony overlooking the living room.
Yes it was this grand!

I was so amazed.
The balcony had little plants along its railing, rooted in the soil.
It was cut in a design where you could plant flowers in it, and even water them and have the water spread around the semi-circle that was the railing without the water dripping down and spoiling the furniture below.

I waltzed back to the corridor which led to the spiral staircase.
As complicated and huge as this house sounds, it is very well ventilated.
It has lots of windows, and great feng shui.
Wind and energy was always flowing through the house.
I could just feel them.

I proceeded up the spiral staircase to the 3rd floor.
Again, the house blew me away.
Almost literally this time, for what I was now facing as I stood at the 3rd floor,
Was a balcony.
A grand, nearly 15 meters wide, balcony.
White tiling, all across.
I walked out and gazed at the skyline of Kuala Lumpur.
Through the gaps in the safety railings,
I saw a huge forest, right across the street from us.
I saw our massive garden, crawling with crab grass, weeds and one small tree, standing alone to the side of the property.

After quite a few minutes,
I continued my exploration.
To my left was my parents bedroom.
It had a king sized bed and a simple double bed for me and Colin.
The bathroom was identical to Auntie Sandy's except that it had a bath tub!
I had so many fun memories in that bath tub.
Including one where I tripped and fell, smacking my head hard against the bathroom floor.
Not fun but still a memory i'm glad I remember.

I raced down the stairs to the living room.
And when I got to the corridor leading to the living room, thats the first time I remember really absorbing what was happening around me.
We all have that moment.

That moment where you clearly remember, "My REAL memories, started from here."
I felt true happiness like I hadn't ever before.
Sadness.
Love.
Excitement.

This was it.
I stood there.
And from that tiny step 11 years ago,
I started to feel.
I began to dream.
And most importantly,
I loved myself.

My fascination with all video games all began when I was 4 years old.
I was hobbling around and I remember watching my mom's colleague, Uncle Lam, tapping the keys of the keyboard rapidly.
I stared up from the pathetic height I was at that age.
I was so mystified.
What was making all those noises? I was truly incredibly interested.

Then, a miracle.
My mom called out for Uncle Larry to inspect some fabrics.

"Hey little guy, can you watch my game for me?" he joked.
"Ok I will" I replied.

He picked me up and stood me on the chair.
"Just look at it, but don't touch anything."
With that, he ran off to get to work.

I read the letters slowly in my head.
"S-T-A-R-C-R-A-F-T."
I read it aloud.
"Stercraff?"

I saw three portals, each with one otherwordly figure, about the size of 1/3 of the computer screen.
I moved the mouse which I learnt how to use from hours of fiddling around my mom's office.
I scrolled over the "portals" one by one.

I still remember their names.
I remember trying to read Protoss, Terran and Zerg out loud.
Everything was a learning experience for me at that age.

I peered under the screen and saw Uncle Larry, very busy with his measuring rulers and tapes and markers and everything.

"He won't notice."
I grinned a little.
Then I was off, into the world of Starcraft.
I clicked Protoss.

I saw a small green bar at the bottom of the screen,
LOADING.

"Hmm...this doesn't seem very fun."
But as soon as the green bar filled the whole capsule at the bottom of the screen,
I was launched into a cinematic of several races of alien at war.
It was mildly horrific.

I sat there and was absolutely in awe of the quality of the graphics.
It was so real!

I see a shadow, passing the right side of the screen.
I flinch in my seat.
Before I could figure out how to undo what I had started,
Uncle Larry was right beside me.
"Hey you cheeky little bugger, you wanna play huh?"
I couldn't keep it in.
I nodded, vibrating a little from the excitement.

He chuckled and lifted a pen and a slip of paper from his chest pocket.
My eyes followed the tip of his pen.
He scribbled "power overwhelming".

I questioned him on the weird words and their meanings.

"Just type it EVERY TIME before you start doing anything in the game, alright? Its a good thing to type."

So I did.
And I was good!
Every game I played, I typed that before I did anything or moved any units,
And I always won!
No matter how big the enemies were, or how fast they moved, I could always destroy them in seconds!

Even my basic worker units were too tough for them to kill.

I was playing God in the game!
Whatever I didn't want there, would go.
Everything I did want, could never be destroyed.

So every morning, before brushing my teeth, or drinking my Milo,
I would be at that computer.
Sometimes as early as 7am,
I would climb up onto the chair and begin to play, sitting on a cushion to align my eyes with the screen.
At around 10am my mom would wake up.

"Nicky, how long have you been playing?"
She would sweetly say, no matter how groggy she was that morning.

My reply was standard..and an outright lie.
"I just started 5 minutes ago,"

And it was a good lie too..because I always managed to throw in the perfect touches.

"Oh and good morning, mom! I hope you slept well."
And then I would grin, sweetly, boyishly.

For weeks, that was my morning routine.
I was hooked to the game.
Till one day, Uncle Larry brought back another disc that read:
"Starcraft : Brood War Expansion Set"

I was unfazed.
With my godly skill, I would be king of the so-called deadliest aliens in the galaxy.
After all they could never even touch me without me incinerating their space backsides.
He downloaded it in and hours later, I started playing.

I clicked on my favourite race, the Zerg.
Everything seemed normal, only with better graphics and units.
As usual I built my tiny army and marched it in, knowing everything would be defeated in one click.

I sent the attack orders, and my army clashed with the Protoss Army.
I was wiped off the battlefield in seconds.

"What?!"

It was such a crushing defeat.
I had entered the words!
I re-entered 'power overwhelming'.
And again, and again and again.

Yet there was no change.
I kept losing.
I told Uncle Larry and all he could do was say,
"Try some other game, Nick! It's not the only game on there!"
I wouldn't give up, I persisted.
With no positive results.

Then one day, Uncle Lam computer malfunctioned and fused.
It never worked again.
And my journey to conquer the galaxy came to a halt.
How did it malfunction?
I had no explaination..
Untill now!
*lame suspenseful music?*

I was really dumb at the time, so I have no recollection as to what was on board the train of thought that rode through my mind that day.
The thoughts that led to that one moronic decision.

So there I was, a fresh, radiant morning.
Standing at the top of the marble steps, the same ones that I had been standing atop that day when I observed my housekeeper mopping the floors.

I stumbled around, down the stairs, and headed towards the computer.
It was the way i'd start my morning off everyday.

Starcraft was waiting for me!
I slowly trodded along, being wary not to step on any spiders or roaches.
Living beside a jungle, you never know what to expect.
I hopped onto the rolling chair and was just about to start up the computer when I noticed something.

Covered, from its puny head to its creepy long legs with hair, a brown, dotted, daddy spider.
From then on known to me as, 'Daddy Longlegs', I kicked at it one time, hard too.

But I had not thought of the science that would go to work when I did that.
Kinetic energy from my foot, knocked the computer processor off balance.
Gravity pulled the processor down towards the ground.
Thanks to the relatively taut length of the wires connecting it to the main socket,
The processor was suspended in mid-air, a few inches off the ground.

It didn't take long, however, for the weight of the processor to forcefully seperate the wire from the socket, also surrendering the already faulty machine to gravity in the process.

Daddy Longlegs had long before scurried off, leaving me with the mess that it indirectly caused.
Or was it directly?
Maybe it was Daddy Longlegs that had pulled the wires out from the socket and caused all the noise?
Would my mom buy it?
I was doubtful.

I remembered what happened whenever I spilled orange juice on the floor, or ate too fast and left rice grains all over the table.

My mom, dad, grandparents, it didn't matter
They would always tell me the same thing.
"Take a towel and wet it and wipe it up!"
It became a routine course of action to take whenever I did something wrong like that.

So now here I was, I made a mess again.

No one was awake yet.
I had time to "Take a towel, wet it and wipe it up."
And so I did.

I took a wet towel, went straight for the wires.
Liberally pouring water in the sockets.
I did not want to leave a single trace of evidence behind!
Soap seemed to be in order.

So I got the yellow, flowery smelling soaps that we always used to mop the floors,
And I squeezed a little into the circuits.
And wiped again.
Also liberally dripping drops of water directly into the socket, so as not to miss out anything.

I got a little tiny jolt as my hand touched the tip of a wire.

I screamed from the shock and ran upstairs.
My mom came down from the kitchen where she was having her coffee, and cleaned up the mess.

I stood at the top of the marble steps once again, watching her do the exact opposite of everything I had done to clean it up.
A dry towel instead of a wet one.
Unplugging the wires instead of plugging them in.

And I still remember being thick-skinned enough to ask,
"Can I use the computer?"

She sweetly agreed.
Well, I knew my cute fat charms would work.
No question.

Starcraft didn't work..
The feeling I got, seeing that blue screen with all the numbers and lines.
That feeling.
It went far beyond my usual malaise.
For lack of a better word, I was downright pissed.
Now why didn't it work?
What did I do wrong?

So many questions!
But the biggest of all was never answered,

Was my mom really swayed by my fat and cute charms?
Or did she somehow always know what she was doing?
As I type this I think I know the answer.
As much as she seemed to give in blindly,
She always knew what she was doing was the right thing for me.
I believe she still does.

Many kids want little kittens, hamsters or puppies.
Anything cute fuzzy and furry anyway.
And so did I.

But instead of a mini, pocket-sized little pooch,
I woke up to find a ginormous, hunk of a dog.

Standing at about 3 1/2 feet tall, Speedy was an incredible specimen of the Boxer breed.
Absolutely spectacularly strong hind legs.
Torso like a tree trunk.
So strong, if he simply walked into me, he could topple me over and suffocate me with ease.
As monstrously strong as he was, I never remember him ever hurting me or anyone else in my family, besides my grandfather.

Speedy was the best guard dog I have ever seen.

I remember looking at him through the window on the ground floor of our bungalow.
He darted through the long and thick blades of grass that infested our yard, with ease.
Also, running into walls, pillars, cars, and tripping down staircases never seemed to faze him.
He was just a massive hunk of meat.
And incredibly fast too!
Hence, Speedy.

On this one occassion as I was watching him,
He started behaving oddly.
He was doing his usual rounds through the grass when he dropped to the ground, like a soldier taking cover behind a trench by lying flat on his stomach.
He pounced, left to right, each time he landed he dropped back into his defensive stance.

After about 30 seconds,
He leapt forward into a thick shrub, violently ripped something out of the ground and ran it all the way back to his cage.
When I proceeded to investigate,
I saw, in his jaws, a grotesque, ruptured corpse of a snake.
It was a good 1 1/2 meters long.

He gave me so many fond memories.
I owe many peaceful yet entertaining afternoons to Speedy.
He was not always out being silly tho,
He napped quite often too.
But each time he napped, even just the gentle songs of a nearby bird would bring his mind to full attention as he raised his head, alerted to the sound and scent.

I remember him killing snake after snake.
I remember him standing up on his hind legs, resting firmly on my grandfather's shoulders.
I remember him running into a wall and then barking at it.
I remember trying to ride him like a horse.

He was my personal best friend at that time.
In a way I guess he still is.
My fascination with him being doggy royalty always led me to feed him in the afternoon, with little biscuit snacks.
Probably went to waste since he can pretty much get his own fresh bird meat whenever he pleases.
I really do not exaggerate when I say Speedy was a hunting dog.
He was a truly ferocious, and incredibly loyal canine.
Each time a drunk passed our house in the middle of the night, he would be the first there, to bark the man almost off the street.
He had a distinctively booming bark, face to face, it felt like two large surround-sound speakers on “Xtreme Bass” mode.

And the most terrifying, yet memorable experience I had with Speedy, was made possible, courtesy of my brother.
It was truly the only moment in my entire life that I have seen Colin scared and running for his life.
We were all taking a break in the living room, drinking Milo and watching TV as usual.
A few minutes later when the show ended, we made our usual trip to play with Speedy.
Also, as usual.
And I went with him, I followed him almost everywhere.
As usual.

"Get some snacks, get some snacks." Colin gently hummed to himself as we made our way through the house.

We were heading to Speedy's cage when Colin scooped a small handful of dog biscuits for him.
I didn't want him to get fat so I ignored the open tin of treats.
We got to the cage and Colin started making farting noises with his mouth to entertain Speedy, while I was just watching from behind.
As he brought the treats nearer to Speedy, he leapt to his feet and pushed his snout into the grill of the cage.
We had no idea it wasn't locked.

15 freakish, horrifiying seconds later,
Speedy was charging at us as we ran towards the door of our house.
Now for you to fully understand this story, a clearer word picture is in order.

5 marble steps led up to a short corridor, lined with wooden railings to prevent anyone stepping into either of the small gardens that were grown on both sides.
This would lead you to the main entrance.
At the bottom of the steps, was a small, home-made wooden gate with a latch.
It was just high enough to prevent Speedy from jumping over it.
And on the far end of the other side of this wooden gate, was Speedy's cage.

Speedy had broken that cage twice already.
And his cage, has always been the canine version of Alcatraz.
And now, he was about to break me.
I ran as fast as I could, the scorched asphalt garage floor only numbed my soles, making it worse.
Just as I was about to run up the marble steps, I was brought to a halt.

Not by Speedy tugging at by ankles,
Not by tripping and falling,
But by Colin running behind the gate, locking it, then screaming for my mom as he ran into the house.
I was too short to jump over the gate, so there I was.
Speedy was already shoving his snout into my back and sniffing wildly.
I dropped to the floor in an attempt to shield my face, feeling his jaws slightly clamping down on little parts of my body.
It didn't hurt at all though.
It felt more like his way of being friendly than an attack.
Nevertheless, I screamed and cried the whole half a minute before my mom came and carried me out.

I loved that dog, like Zeus to a thunder bolt, it felt like destiny.

I remember a day, my grandfather, or as I referred to him, kung, encountered a 2 meter long komodo dragon in our backyard.
Speedy was the most courageous dog I have ever seen.
Kung, wielding a 4 foot bamboo pole, with Speedy by his side, engaged a visual battlefield with it, filled with cautious aggression - not too much as to frighten, yet not too little as to appear vulnerable.
I was observing through the sliding glass door at the side of the house.

Komodo dragons have an average length of 2 to 3 metres, weighing up to 70 kilos, making it the largest living species of lizard.
That's not even the worst part.
A komodo dragon uses a primitive form of biological warfare.
It does little to clean its teeth after feeding on carcasses, rotting or fresh.
All this excess bacteria serves well in a komodo dragon's arsenal.
Serving as a slow but deadly, crippling poison, each bite bears an increasingly imminent risk of infection.

With Kung and Speedy cautiously attempting to surround it, the beast made an aggressive lunge for Speedy.
Its challenge was embraced by a herculean mass of ferocity and experienced hunting.
Speedy tore at the komodo dragon and one gashing wound later, the wounded creature scurried up a tree and disappeared over our walls.

With barely a scratch, Kung led Speedy back into his area of the yard, rewarding him with a slab of meat and a bone.

I have not much memory of what happened to Speedy.
All I remember was him being taken away by a white van, with a grilled-up window on the side.
He seemed to be sleeping.
I asked my parents but they never told me.
As I watched the van leave, I did not feel much sadness, I was too young, I didn’t understand.
I just felt indifferent.
If I only knew i'd never see him again.
Though actually I did see him the other day, in the misty recesses of my dreams.
In white space.

My obsession with Michael Jackson began almost as early as when he began his journey into the music business.


I flipped through the colourless TV channels.
I came across screens of white noise, animals feeding on their young, criminals behind bars, a well-dressed man sitting behind a desk reading to the audience.
And then there was Thriller.
I know I first heard it way after it was released but the soul-lightening effect it had was all the same from any other time I hear it.

As I sit here, almost a decade later, i'm still in love with the beauty in his music.

From the moment Michael pulled up in his car along that deserted road and ran out of gas, to his gleaming eyes of evil at the end.
The feeling that somehow, one note placed tone lower for one time in a song with thousands of notes, could transform your very perception of love, hate, beauty, friendship, happiness, or envy, whatever it may be.

Even if it was just for a second of a song, it meant something to me, to be brought into a world just like that.

A friend of mine once said,
"An author creates worlds.
But a novelist puts order into those worlds."

And I believe songs like Heal The World, bring you into those worlds.
Much to your delight, you can stay there forever.

Since the first time I heard Thriller, I started to actually enjoy music.
I always felt it to be loud, indecisive noise.
No pattern, just noise.

But since that afternoon, everything felt different.
I began tapping on tables and chairs in rythm.
I never wanted the flow to stop.

I felt just the way I do now.
If I had a muse, that was it.
I felt unstoppable.
It was as though I had just started up the pump to a fountain of endless creation and innovation.
Things were being created instantly, and my imagination became infinite.

Nothing felt out of reach.
Everything was possible.

A few years later, I remember hearing rumours that Michael was a child molester and was a psychopathic paedophile.
I took them as just what they were - rumours.
It was never in my place to say what was true and what was false of a perfect stranger.

And till this day I am absolutely firm in my belief that Michael was a clean soul, desperately trying to make this world a better place.
And I salute him, with endless gratitude to his contributions to the children of suffering, under-developed third-world countries.

He also sparked my love for dancing.
I could never stop dancing since Thriller.
I involuntarily popped and locked my way up and down staircases, in and out of doorways.
Even in the shower.
It didn't feel like it possessed me, but rather, I felt enchanted and beguiled by the beauty.

I also revelled in the glory of owning a Michael Jackson Thriller LP.
I still keep it in my room, as I always have.
People make jokes about him and the allegations against him, they may joke about his skin or his dancing.
But I never scold them for it.
Not because I don't love him and his music,
But because it is what I learnt from all of it.
Hate and hate, just create more hate.
Emotions are not math.
That is why negative and negative do not create a positive in reality.
And negatives can become positives on their own.
As long as they follow the plus signs,

Through his music and the lyrics in them I hold so dear,
I feel more human.
I can't help but feel varying tinges of guilt rock my body if I ever let a fellow friend down.
I'm not a pushover.
We're special, and that is no cliche.
Because if I am special, so is everyone else.
And if YOU are special, so is everyone else.

As I type this, I sway to the lyrics softly landing in my ears.
My tears gently roll south from the buttons on the keyboard as I sit here, beautifully moved.

"Heal the world, make it a better place. For you and for me and the entire human race."
I salute you, Michael.

"Consciousness expresses itself through creation.
This world we live in is the dance of the creator.
Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on.
On many occasions when I'm dancing, I've felt touched by something sacred.
In those moments I've felt my spirit soar and become the stars and the moon.
I become the lover and the beloved. I become the master and the slave.
I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known.
I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation.
The creator and the creation merge into one wholeness of joy. I keep on dancing and dancing...and dancing, untill there is only...the dance."
-Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

It was time.

I knew it would come eventually, I just never wanted it to.

"Baby, come on now, lets go."
I ran in the opposite direction of my mom, screaming after the words left her mouth.
I never wanted to leave.
But all our stuff was packed.
We were headed for 'Sunny Singapore'.

I had so many questions to shoot out as i lay slumped over her shoulder, immobilised by her hand around my ankles.
My chin received a gentle massage from her rounded shoulder blade as she carried me into the Jeep.

My grandparents were still going to stay in that house.
It didn't feel right to leave them there.

"Kung, Gram, not coming?"
I asked, through my hideously phony mask of excitement.

"No, darling, they are going to take care of the house."

Colin was in the backseat, looking out the window.
It was obvious he knew earlier than I did.
Probably cuz he was 3 years older.

We left the driveway, each revolution of the tyres seemed to make it more and more real.
As we drove away, Kung and Gram waved us off.
I had no idea I would never see that driveway again.
The parties had stopped, so had the lilt of laughter booming from the living room every night.
The fireflies on that one special tree with a red trunk, that always playfully did their dances for the world every night.
The stray dogs doing their nightly trips through the garbage bins outside.

It was all coming to an end.

As we passed the toll out of Selangor, I felt emptier than ever.
Like the worm holes scattered across the universe, that toll booth symbolised a new chapter in my life. One of warped time and space.

What would make sense in, 'Sunny Singapore'?
Who on earth would name a place 'Sunny Singapore'?

I had many questions, none of which I voiced out.

The stops along the way were fattening, but they took my mind off the sudden move for awhile.
I felt happy to have my mouth stuffed with a bite of a burger and a root beer float.
We pulled out of the final stop.

I read the big green sign as we passed it.
It seemed hostile, yet I was happy with the fact it was in Malay, meaning we were obviously still in Malaysia.

"Ayer Keroh, 33KM"

"Finally."
Colin sighed. As though he was actually glad we were reaching.
Well to be honest, I was too.
The road trip had made me fill my imagination of what Singapore would be like.
"Well it must be sunny," I deduced.
"Probably alot of sunny people too, that would be nice."
I smiled ever so slightly at the psychadelic thought of rainbows sprouting out of peoples backsides.

I let out a babyish giggle, which made my Mom smile, as honestly as always.
Nothing seemed to have changed.

She began to sweetly sing along to the peaceful songs on the radio.
My father smiled in her direction for a brief moment, before running his fingers gently through her hair.
"Love you, darling."
He reached over from his seat into hers on the left, and gave her a quick hug before returning his eyes and attention to the road.

Before I knew it, I slowly faded back into slumber.
The vague image of a signboard reading "Tuas", was what I last remembered seeing while on a Malaysian road.

Till now.

Thanks to you, who are reading this book, I have walked down memory lane, in quiet reverance.
With every chapter of this book, I carefully recounted, remembered and relived each moment in my mind.
I am only 14 yet already, I feel the time slipping through my fingers.
Suddenly, the world does not seem so small.
It seems infinite.

As infinite as I could possibly want it to be.

I'm in Singapore now, typing this.
I've lived here for a few years, and I miss Malaysia.
Yet i've also come to enjoy life in Singapore.

Home is home, as long as you are happy where you are.
My mother's love, my father's guidance, my brother's protection, and my family's support altogether.
It will always follow me, wherever I go.

Sometimes we are like how I was in that car, coming to Singapore.
We never know when we will be taken away from everything we love and care about.

Yet, it doesn't mean we cannot manage anyway.
That is the might of the human spirit.
It is strong, and suited in invincible armour.
A magical barrier of spirit and attitude.

We are what we make of ourselves.
I know many people have the impression that Malaysians are all jungle people, who live in houses built on stilts, with little knowledge of technology or legal business.
But honestly, you need to see it through our eyes.

Each day in school, I feel like a foreigner, its true.
I cannot help but sometimes mispronounce a few words, or make a joke that no one gets.
The same way almost no one else gets me.
I stick to a small group of friends in school, I hardly see any others who are like me.
Just me and my brother.

My grandfather once took me and Colin aside, and took a needle, and made a small prick in both of our fingers.
He warned us not to flinch.
We didn't.
Carefully, he held both of our fingers above a cup of water.
"Watch." he whispered, with the husky, mesmerizing tint of wisdom he always has in his voice.

Slowly, a drop of blood dripped out. Within seconds, each of us had dripped one drop into the cup.
They broke the surface of the water and sunk to the bottom, leaving trails of blood behind them.
He quickly wrapped our pricked fingers both in small hand towels.

"Look!." he exclaimed, grabbing the back of our heads to ensure we were looking.

The two drops of blood slowly drifted towards each other under the water, ever so slightly, before joining and disappearing into the water, together.

"No matter where you are, remember you two are brothers. You grew up together, you are family. No matter what you do to each other, if you take your blood with your brother, and drop them into a cup of water, they will meet up again."

This world is our cup of water, and wherever we go, whatever we do, we will always come back together.
Our love, our support, our memories, our faith in each other.
They will forever be united.
My brother is beside me right now, strumming his guitar.
And as powerful as words are, I can't even begin to describe how deep my love is for him.
This last chapter..and this entire novel, was all just written when it hit me how much I had taken the good things in my life for granted.
I'm going to give him that hug now.

Thanks for reading :)