Pools of Blood

"You know it's like this giant pool of blood and everyone's dying and you can't exactly tell whose pool of blood this is since everyone's pools of blood are so big that they all overlap and we're all swimming in this giant pool and the only thing that we know is that everyone's dying inside"

Paraphrased, of course. My memory for quotes of such length does not extend to the many months from when the quote came about. What with this being a teacher's passing comment and all, it's hard to remember the quote so clearly when it's just a statement said during a break.

It's kind of the point in time where the blood has began to flow out, the wounds are deep and everyone is in their own pool of blood and yet the vessels that were cut were the veins, not the arteries. So a few months into IB (well, close to half a year now) you're beginning to wonder why the hell there's such a huge pool of blood around you and more importantly why you're not dead yet. Oh, wonderful arteries. Keeping the blood pumping and your life flowing.

When you have this really huge pool of blood around you, though, you really do begin to wonder. "Hey, what's up with my death coming so slowly? Is it going to get any faster?" "What's the purpose in my veins being cut? What's the point in this form of suicide anyway? Why's it so slow?" "That wasn't what I was expecting. But then again, what would you expect from cutting your wrists?" "Hey, look, that guy screwed up too - he's also got a big pool of blood around him and I don't see him dead." "Hey, that's my senior, let's go say H- wait, he's dead. Nevermind."

And then you start wondering how long your blood is going to trickle down drop by drop onto the gigantic pool of blood. And then your pool joins up with other people's. Then you realize that hey - that's Sir over there and Ma'am right over at that corner. Mr Connor's relaxing in that one korner (Due apologies to anyone who has heard me say this too many times one particular Friday) and so on and so forth. And then you realize that your seniors are in this too - save that their pools are just that wee bit - ok, a helluva lot bigger.

But of course time waits for no man, and the Grim Reaper isn't exactly the most patient man around when he has to deal with a Japanese citizen every 15 minutes (Statistics provided courtesy of a fellow 駄目人間, translated as worthless human being. Kinda makes you wonder about the credibility of the statistics, eh. Lies, damned lies and the like.) So he cuts your arteries too. It's really quite a subtle process - administration and bureaucracy are rather inefficient and you tend to be more concerned about such things, so it's natural that you end up lambasting the inefficient systems of blood loss. In short, everyone's not-checking.

It's hard to notice, of course, since you're busy thinking of philosophical approaches to the topic of death, finding your identity in this 2-year suicide, and generally improving your standard of intelligence while stuck in this giant pool of blood. Oh, did I mention socializing and talking to other people stuck in their own pool of blood?

But after a while, you suddenly realize at a random point of time that the blood really is oozing out like this giant fountain of beautiful crimson tears (really, just a nice way of saying fresh blood)
and you suddenly realize that death is that much quicker (and that much sooner). You try and get out of your pool of blood so you can properly panic and run around and scream AAAH I'M DYING OVER HERE SOMEBODY HELP ME - but you're stuck in this pool of completely coagulated, dried blood that really, really hinders your movement rather badly. Think of it as a rather philosophical form of quicksand death. I mean, you're getting stuck thanks to bleeding, damnit. Did you die due to your arteries draining your life out at this particularly rapid pace or is it because you got stuck in the blood that solidified while you were standing around wondering how long you were going to take to fully understand the effects of blood drain?

Really, this huge amount of blood loss would come across as a huge shock to some of you. The hypovolemic sort, of course.

Yet somewhere around the 2-year mark you suddenly see a lifesaver come in. A medic team, buncha green men and a high-ranking official walking into a particular private-owned Hill in the 119th lane - though by that time its name would probably be Bukit Merah (Maybe it would have its own monorail too, haha. Would be convenient too, and it's more comfortable to travel without feeling the ickyness of walking on solid blood). So you wonder to yourself: Hey, is that guy here to save me from the abyss?

You see the official walk towards the grim reaper, contract and featherpen in hand.

"Hey, reaper. The kids here - I mean the second year ones - how much are they worth?"
"Quite a fair bit, Mr. Lee. How much do you want to save their asses for?"
"Any amount. It's in the contract. Trust me, some things are priceless."
"All's fair, then. I'll sign this, and you get the second year kids."
"Oh, actually, I want the guys. Just set the girls free if you want, I don't really need them. Not until they can marry, at least."
"Hmm? Not that I care. Here're the guys."

You get pulled out of this giant pool of blood with the latest techno know-how and what-have-you-nots, and in but a moment's time you're sparkling clean.

You look to the official with grateful eyes. "Hey, Sir, can we go back now? To a normal way of living?"
He looks back at you and smiles. "What normal way of living?"

And enlightenment finally comes to you like a nice red brick: Oh God, he's with the government.