THE SADDEST EXPERIENCE IN MY LIFE.

"It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Intriguing it truly is how Shakespeare brings out one's emotions through such doleful words. Nevertheless, it is true. Life is but an unfathomable tale of sorrow and misery, masked behind the sounds and faces of joy, only to approach the inevitable unmasking of the truth, when one would realize that dreams are but an empty flask, easily shattered into oblivion. It came like a spear prickling my soul. Perhaps it was just the blankets being too thin, maybe if I had added one, no two, no it just wouldn't have sufficed. I had always thought of campfires to be the source of great warmth and comfort... I stood corrected. For all I knew at that point, I could've been lying naked in the midst of a blizzard, the unforgiving gelid winds wailing proudly as they struck misery down to my very core. Accompanied only by a surfeit of queasy sensation patrolling by my uvular. It was incontrovertibly a one-sided battle.

It must have been the fever, though one could have erroneously believed that it was just the merciless wind, howling pass the campsite, disturbing the rustling leaves. They had gone to restock on more wood to burn. I was left to rest in my tent. I would have gone with them if I had not been a victim to the agonizing fever. Hiding from the coldness beneath the safety of my blanket might not have been the most courageous act of the century, but to follow the others out into the woods in the absence of heat would be plain suicide. Before long, the wind wailed even louder in an utmost plaintive manner. I dug deep into my pockets in search of my pills. Somehow, as if things could not have gotten worse, they were missing. That was it. In moments, the sickness would overcome my resistance and incapacitate me, as would the asphyxiation slowly sink in. Then, through the glass of my memory, a sliver of hope came to be. The pills, they must have still been with Percy, that fool wanted to 'take a look at it' earlier on and

must have kept it with him. It was simply a no-brainer, suicide or not, I must retrieve them, to endure the intensifying sickness would be worse than to face death itself. With a long, deep breath and a whole lot of foolish bravery, I rushed out, embracing the tempest and broke off, scurrying out into the woods mindlessly in search of Percy. The trees grew thicker as both light and warmth from the campfire dimmed and faded away into cold and black despair. There was simply no time to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I charged forward towards who knows where whilst yelling out the names of my campmates as I shivered in the midst of grieve and fear. I had just about given up when a shout retaliated my efforts, it was of my name and I was sure the voice belonged to Percy. My tired eyes tried to search for the voice despite the overwhelming darkness. The voice came again and I ran towards it, only to have it shout something at me in a warning tone. But unfortunately, I could not have cared less at that moment.

It all happened in haste. My foot felt nothingness, my vision descended and adrenaline rushed within me. Was it a cliff, or a hole, I could not remember. Miraculously, I survived the fall. But miracles don't just happen every day without a price. I had been paralyzed from waist down ever since. Now I sit patiently in a wheelchair, awaiting nothing but a sorrowful end to my life.