The Vanguard

Visual representation courtesy of Frontier Trust.

The Vanguard fired a short pulse from his aft microverniers, causing his battered machine to drift lifelessly towards the planetoid, its robotic limbs reluctantly being pulled along by the forces of inertia. Devoid of motivation and drained of energy, the previous consecutive skirmishes had accumulated into a maelstrom of deadly conflict involving thousands of combatants from all sides. When the dust settled, only one machine remained.

The Vanguard, however, was not free from injury.

The Way the Wheel Turns

As the tagline for the latest Fast & Furious movie goes, "All roads lead to this." 

I should have seen this coming, should have adequately prepared for it, should have taken all possible measures to safeguard myself. Yet, when the first kaiju made landfall, I was wholly devastated by its sheer enormity, its terrible roar, its deadly appendages tearing everything that I knew and held dear totally asunder. 

And it happened again. And again. And again.

When a gigantic Cloverfield-like creature festooned with alien shards  flattened the metropolis, that was when I finally learnt that this was never going to stop. 

I had to find a way to fight back.

They counted on me to hide, to give up; they never imagined that I would rise to the challenge.

To fight monsters, I had to create monsters of my own: mental fortitude, determination and a deliberate hardening of the heart melding together to create a fearsome, intricate machine. I sent it into battle and for a while, the machine and I were winning, it seemed to be working.

But then, everything changed.

The monsters evolved, shed off their battered shells and emerged all dark, ominous and shrouded by an impenetrable black cloud. I could not make out their features from the dense disruption, much less find any weak spots to commence an attack. I got pounded into submission, my machine taking beating after beating, suffering irreparable damage to 80 percent of its heavily-battered frame. 

Now, I am on the edge of my hope, at the end of my time.

To fight these renewed creatures, I have to understand them once again, understand the vermin that they were aiming to eradicate by attacking population centers, understand the motivation for such indiscriminate genocide. To do that, I have to withdraw into my Shatterdome, to redraw the plans of battle and create another bigger, deadlier machine to face the monsters that are at my door. 

I hope that I will be able to cancel the apocalypse.

Feed the fishes.

Into Darkness

Before I begin with this post proper, allow me to provide a simple breakdown of my life’s components:

•           Work: 50%
•           Costuming: 5%
•           Gaming 5%
•           Nerf/Tactical Sports: 10%
•           Family: 20%
•           Gundam: 5%
•           Others: 5%

The above is a rough estimate of the activities that take up most of my time, the things that demand for my regular attention. However, the above is before variable A came into the picture.

Variable A replaced everything below Work.

I entered this equation filled with hope but armed with wary, as preliminary studies indicated that variable A was atypical, different from the run-of-the-mill, factory-churned specimens I was used to. The studies were accurate, the past few months had been one emotional roller-coaster ride after another. Yet, I endured, for the results from a successful solution were deeply affective and very fulfilling. Simply put, variable A completed the equation, without which it would remain unbalanced, unsolvable and useless.

Math metaphors aside, I did all I could to make variable A happy, cheerful, content. I tended to her every need, tried to fulfill her every want, stayed by her side longer than anyone else in my life and tried all ways and means to maintain the status quo. Orthodox, unethical, legal, dangerous, mortally-damaging, turnkey solutions – I’ve tried them all. So why am I teary-eyed five days a week? Why do I do to bed with a heavy, damaged heart? Why do I wake up to a miasma of dread and gloom?

I know you can’t help it, you are going through some pretty tough times yourself. But is it too much to ask for you to be a bit happier? You display that same haggard look every day, you give me the cold shoulder on a near-daily basis, you respond coldly to my texts. To put it harshly, you simply don’t give a damn, whether it is about the shit I go through at work or about the other things in my… wait.

There are no other things in my life anymore.

And when you give me the silent treatment, I honestly don't feel like living anymore. It’s akin to a red-hot katana forged from the fires of Mount Doom bladed with a scaled-down version of the Death Star’s laser driven into my helpless heart at transwarp speed.

Fate challenged me to play this game on legendary, but now, I’m seriously wondering if the final cutscene is really worth it. Perhaps, I really wasn't ready.

Everyday, I am so fatigued by any number of things. The mental and psychological stress placed on me by my mounting workload can only be laughed off but never alleviated. I live with a perpetually churned-gut, always thinking of the next project, the next deadline, the next incident which would throw an already disheveled system into total anarchy. It is perplexing, tormenting and downright destructive, yet I cannot transcend this.

I also feel so guilty for disregarding my family ever since she came into my life. My home has become just a place for me to get some sleep, a hot shower and a change of clothes, but also a refugee camp for when the damage is just too dire. I feel so, so bad not talking to my parents more, giving them simple answers whenever they ask me anything at home. I really cannot summon up the motivation and processing power to prolong the conversation, my resources have been spent elsewhere. For that, I am really sorry.

My friends have been with me for the longest time, through the period of my greatest agony, through the good times of my life. I cannot ask for finer friends, for they are the only constant in this churning maelstrom that my life has become. They will always be a harbour for my nonsense, my randomness, my infatuation with SNSD as well as the persona that is Spartan of Spectre. For that, I thank you, all of you, and ask that we continue to exist as a group, divided as we may be.

A random picture on my Facebook news feed bore the following words: "If something is not making you happy anymore, respect yourself enough to walk away". This rings frighteningly true for many, many aspects of my life right now.

Although my rosy picture has begun its descent into darkness, but I will walk it through and finish what I started.

It is only logical.

Feed the fishes.