  EPISODE IV: Heaven out of Hell Timeline: Past (Winter of 1999) My junior year at Uni found me emaciated. The afflictive, painful studio recordings were all through the summer and left Charon and I literally cut loose from Ichoir mentally. We were through with Avarel and his exaggerated self-indulgence alongside his keeping the majority of Ichoir on his side , turning those that came to be our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, lovers and friends into total strangers. One by one, they left the neutral grounds for the enemy's side which was agonizing to experience beyond description.
The main reason for all this was simply the clash of Titans. Charon and I are beings who are not afraid of being simply ourselves even if that means the rest of the world will turn their backs on us. We voiced our opinions freely and without self-restraint only for the betterment of the album and Ichoir in general yet Avarel persisted in taking this as an insult on his creative abilities.
Then came the psychological torture. More than once I found myself in the studio, trying to suppress tears as I was trying to make a very difficult partition come out smoothly yet was slowly being strangled by the attack of dead glances behind that glass staring at me without the slightest attempt of empathy but full of mockery if not apathy. You give two and a half years to become us only to witness its collapse into "me" and "you". Resembling too much like a break-up, does it not? A twist that was marking the end of our polyamory too soon. In a marriage, couples strive to put up with each other thinking about their children, in vain. In our case, our child was our music. Hence, Charon and I (later joined by Rain Man) tried our best to tolerate the rest.
Coming this far, it was no time to quit. We had to take the responsibility of those two and a half years. To make sure that all that effort did not go to waste. If only we knew it was needless because the effort was going to end up wasted by no other than Avarel, very soon.
And if only I knew that all that I was trying to keep to myself for 22 years was going to be shoved into my face before dropping in the heart of public. What was weakening me was not only this psycotorture but also my very own biology. As soon as the album went into editing towards Fall, I found myself bleeding continuously. Literally. Physically. I would find my underwear a sight fitting a scene right out of some cheesy vampire movie possibly titled "Bloodbath". Each urinary session turned out to be a pain, I was constantly suffering from a high fever and it came to such a point that I found myself striving for consciousness during the day.
One day my advisor called for me and sounded her serious concern about my well-being. Not only physically but psychologically, too. She stated that I looked like a lotuseater, constantly dazed as if I was on drugs. Whatever happened to the bright child of the department who ended up as their only Freshman to be in the list of Honors? Was I on chemicals? Heroin? If so, she would do her best to aid me. What was it? I left her sitting there puzzled and went home wherein the air was as heavy as possible. Something was happening but I was too weak to get a hold on the matter. Finally, I got an appointment from a urologist and was diagnosed with acute urinary infection. I was immediately on heavy antibiotics to stop the inflammation. By this time, I was already zombie-like, walking around with deep hollows under my eyes and weighing only 104 lbs in 5' 9'' of height thus accelerating gossips among friends in my department.
"Blumia! I once saw him in the lavatory, retching like hell. " "Oh no anorexia for certain. He refuses to eat. " "No no...Drug addiction. The inevitable result of being entrapped in the night life. " It was none. Just as my family was about to be involved in the craze and start to speculate, a call from the doctor altered the pace. My prolactin (the hormone that stimulates milk production during pregnancy) levels were dangerously high for a male and I had to go through another set of tests. They must be reduced for high levels of prolactin was one of the main reasons that triggered kidney cancer and since I had cancer in my family history, immediate precaution was necessary. Weeks and weeks passed me by under fluorescent bulbs, among test tubes, between "pg/ml"s. I was experiencing something so compact that I could not stand seeing another nurse or hear another doctor diagnosing me. Eventually, my father realized the all-importance of the matter and turned towards me. It was a little 22 years late, though.
I will not be as bold as to stand up and say "I don't trust in anyone who works in an environment that needs antiseptics" but it is close. Very close. I saw doctors misdiagnose my mother THRICE which led to mistreatment which led to her death. And now I was next in line for their trial and error. Until, another twist changed it all. I was so fed up with it all and convinced the end was near for me that I went, "I won't die without coming out! " ...and I did... ...with the worst of timings, per usual. 
