Tuesday, February 10, 2009/8:19 PM
At times, I wished today never happened.
My day started off usually.
I didn't talk to Syafiqah much on the bus, and I knew that was a sign of the day to come and immediately I felt wary.
The bad thing about being in different classes with Syafiqah is, our timetables clash. When she has class, I don't and vice versa.
And most of the times, it can be of the upmost inconvenience.
I had three periods of breaks consecutively today, followed by another two.
I didn't do much. I sat at the library doing my chemistry homework.
Ironic how, I used to laugh at those who chained themselves to education despite breaks and resting periods.
I finished my tutorial, I finished my lecture notes.
I was still alone, so I decided to read.
Read my heart out. Read to be happy.
Picked up a book I fancied, and began flipping through the pages.
Chose specific parts of the storyline that I deemed to be magical.
Those bits that showed love.
I used to envy those who could describe love through mere words.
They had a power that shone with glaring clarity through the dull and mundane pages and font.
words seemed to jump and dance on the page.
I turned crimson at several parts, always remembering him.
Always remembering how he made me laugh, made me smile.
missing him.
Lectures were uninteresting, despite my love for the subjects.
Time flew, time crawled, time stood still.
Time was never on my side today.
I craved for lectures, praying for an escape from my loneliness.
There were so many of my friends who invited me to lunch,
invited me to sit with them,
invited me to study with them.
So inviting,
but I declined.
Knowing that the one person I really really wanted to sit with and eat lunch with wasn't there.
My best friend.
But she had class, and I cannot blame her for that.
I wandered, I wavered, I strolled.
I passed by groups of twos, threes and fours.
Foursomes brought on the most nostalgia though, and the hollowness that it brought with it.
There were so many of them, sitting at the study benches,
talking,
laughing.
How I wished I could just sit at one of those tables and begin babbling about my annoying classmate who sits beside me,
but they wouldn't understand,
they wouldn't reply,
they wouldn't laugh.
My spirits lifted when I had the chance to see him again.
I almost ran to my old school, for all the wrong reasons.
When I saw him, I wanted to throw my arms around him and start crying,
but I didn't, because I couldn't.
and because it would be weird.
Instead, I went to see my beloved dancers.
My how they have grown,
I never realised how much I'd really missed them,
missed dancing and being free.
I joked and laughed with them, feeling happy again like I did in the morning.
Ironically,
I was teaching them to dance, I was teaching them to smile,
I was teaching them to fly.
Why couldn't I learn after my own lessons?
Why did I find it so difficult to dance again, to smile, to fly and be free?
What happened?
Indeed that is the question to be answered,
What happened?
On my journey home, the truth hit me,
hard and brutal, blunt and deceiving,
just as it always does.
Even though I knew it for myself, it brought on a whole new level of painful realisation to hear it from not one,
but from two.
I guess these two should know best, and so I listened.
When I said goodbye to one, it was solemn and cloaked with apprehension and awkwardness.
When I said goodbye to the other, he didn't say goodbye back.
He gave the 'you're not really going to do this' look.
But I did say goodbye,
I went into lift, and rose to the place I called home.
Even though I felt like falling.
Slammed the door of my room,
and began dictating everything that had happened to my only confidante,
my beloved Nadia.
Why she endured my crap I would never know.
I'm glad I'm a girl, because girls have make-up.
So it's not obvious that you've been crying when you step out of the room.
You can escape the questions from your parents just by appling a little powder on those areas on your face that appeared a bit blotchy, puffy, red.
I'm really glad I'm a girl, otherwise,
I wouldn't have cried.
I used to like crying, I used to love have tears flow on my cheeks.
A river of emotions.
But I didn't like it now,
I wish I hadn't cried. I felt weak.
I feel weak.
My tears fell with me,
but I fell deeper.
Right now, I wish today never happened.
My day started off usually.
I didn't talk to Syafiqah much on the bus, and I knew that was a sign of the day to come and immediately I felt wary.
The bad thing about being in different classes with Syafiqah is, our timetables clash. When she has class, I don't and vice versa.
And most of the times, it can be of the upmost inconvenience.
I had three periods of breaks consecutively today, followed by another two.
I didn't do much. I sat at the library doing my chemistry homework.
Ironic how, I used to laugh at those who chained themselves to education despite breaks and resting periods.
I finished my tutorial, I finished my lecture notes.
I was still alone, so I decided to read.
Read my heart out. Read to be happy.
Picked up a book I fancied, and began flipping through the pages.
Chose specific parts of the storyline that I deemed to be magical.
Those bits that showed love.
I used to envy those who could describe love through mere words.
They had a power that shone with glaring clarity through the dull and mundane pages and font.
words seemed to jump and dance on the page.
I turned crimson at several parts, always remembering him.
Always remembering how he made me laugh, made me smile.
missing him.
Lectures were uninteresting, despite my love for the subjects.
Time flew, time crawled, time stood still.
Time was never on my side today.
I craved for lectures, praying for an escape from my loneliness.
There were so many of my friends who invited me to lunch,
invited me to sit with them,
invited me to study with them.
So inviting,
but I declined.
Knowing that the one person I really really wanted to sit with and eat lunch with wasn't there.
My best friend.
But she had class, and I cannot blame her for that.
I wandered, I wavered, I strolled.
I passed by groups of twos, threes and fours.
Foursomes brought on the most nostalgia though, and the hollowness that it brought with it.
There were so many of them, sitting at the study benches,
talking,
laughing.
How I wished I could just sit at one of those tables and begin babbling about my annoying classmate who sits beside me,
but they wouldn't understand,
they wouldn't reply,
they wouldn't laugh.
My spirits lifted when I had the chance to see him again.
I almost ran to my old school, for all the wrong reasons.
When I saw him, I wanted to throw my arms around him and start crying,
but I didn't, because I couldn't.
and because it would be weird.
Instead, I went to see my beloved dancers.
My how they have grown,
I never realised how much I'd really missed them,
missed dancing and being free.
I joked and laughed with them, feeling happy again like I did in the morning.
Ironically,
I was teaching them to dance, I was teaching them to smile,
I was teaching them to fly.
Why couldn't I learn after my own lessons?
Why did I find it so difficult to dance again, to smile, to fly and be free?
What happened?
Indeed that is the question to be answered,
What happened?
On my journey home, the truth hit me,
hard and brutal, blunt and deceiving,
just as it always does.
Even though I knew it for myself, it brought on a whole new level of painful realisation to hear it from not one,
but from two.
I guess these two should know best, and so I listened.
When I said goodbye to one, it was solemn and cloaked with apprehension and awkwardness.
When I said goodbye to the other, he didn't say goodbye back.
He gave the 'you're not really going to do this' look.
But I did say goodbye,
I went into lift, and rose to the place I called home.
Even though I felt like falling.
Slammed the door of my room,
and began dictating everything that had happened to my only confidante,
my beloved Nadia.
Why she endured my crap I would never know.
I'm glad I'm a girl, because girls have make-up.
So it's not obvious that you've been crying when you step out of the room.
You can escape the questions from your parents just by appling a little powder on those areas on your face that appeared a bit blotchy, puffy, red.
I'm really glad I'm a girl, otherwise,
I wouldn't have cried.
I used to like crying, I used to love have tears flow on my cheeks.
A river of emotions.
But I didn't like it now,
I wish I hadn't cried. I felt weak.
I feel weak.
My tears fell with me,
but I fell deeper.
Right now, I wish today never happened.
self-proclamation.
My life is not a fascination worth the scrutiny of those who watch over me. Yet, I live amongst thin air and sparkling personalities.
I am an avid fan of the KoreanPop scene. So bring me to the number thirteen.
read my lips.
they're watching.
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