At this time, I sat there with a concoction of emulsified drugs, carefully measured to achieve the inevitable.

It was ironic how the time I spent in university learning about the body and saving others, had equipped me with the tools to do the very opposite to my self.

With blurred eyes, blood dripping, the cup touched my lips. The strong scent of kerosene and regret. Was this death or paradise?

I wanted to shut out the critics, voices, visions, noise. I felt trapped. Jailed in my own mind and body. I wanted to be set free. Liberated. I was desperate. Desperate.

Did you feel the desperation?

Copy. Paste. Copy Paste. CTRL-Z. CTRL-V. Again. Again and again. I focused on nothing but the colours and expressions of my work. My pain eased. I found my meditation.

The next day, I admitted my self into a psychiatric hospital.

Here, Niku was born.

The pieces you will see next are some of the outcome of my meditation.

With,

Niku