I have eyebags. My classmates think I’m mad. My notes are all over the place. Moodiness is seeping in. (which explains the previous adolescent-hormone laced post) SMSes and phone calls asking about this paper and that paper start coming in. I have two pencil cases. My bag is light. Procrastination gears start working. This time, I’m reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
It’s exam season again.
This morning I woke up, thinking of what was said last night. I head to the shower, turning on the tap. The trickle of water flows and I shampoo my hair, inhaling the scent you love so much. My eyes sting; maybe shampoo, water and tears don’t mix well.
This morning I woke up, to the sun streaming in through the curtains. Remember that Friday afternoon after school? When we went to the park behind your house and sat at that bench, its surfaces bearing initials of young loves inside roughly carved hearts. We made names from the letters and laughed ourselves silly from the puppylove-induced messages people left there… and then we carved our own initials.
This morning I woke up, to the sounds of the old air-conditioner clunking away. Searching my collection of CDs in a blue cardboard box, I found the one you gave me. I contemplated playing the disc with bubblegum songs, the ones we used to listen to and loved so much. If only we can rewind the past and pre-view the future. The CD went back into the box.
This morning I woke up, the sheets in a mess. The warm blanket reminded me of the time we were caught in the rain. Seven in the evening at an empty bus stop with thunder and lightning; but I was safe in your hug.
This morning I woke up, the whiff of hot Milo in the air. Two large scoops of Milo, hot water and a little peck on the cheek on rainy Friday afternoons, Milo ais guzzling sessions at the mamak on Saturday nights and yummy Milo toast on Sunday mornings at your place.
This morning I woke up, you were not there anymore.
Argh. Just typed out a post. A long post. And then accidentally clicked on the bloody advertisment for "Fun, New Cursors" which lead to some stupid webshit website for "Fun, New Cursors".
Curse you bloody Cursors. rahhhhh…
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Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin passed away yesterday. Shocker innit? Rest in peace Mr. Irwin. Condolences to his family.
I saw an accident today. A Wira collided with a MyVi. At this point, maybe I should inform you that I fail miserably when it comes to giving descriptions of things which I have witnessed so I hope you understand when I say it is for the good of (wo)mankind that I do not begin to give you a description of what happened. Heck, I can’t even describe a movie I just watched to a friend. "Oh.. erm.. It was about this guy who found a draft of a letter written by this poet he was researching about… the letter was to this woman who is the ancestor of this woman…"
See what I mean?
Ugh. Distractions. Anyway, there was a pool of dark… er, liquid at the collision site. Couldn’t tell whether it was petrol or blood. Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking:
"BLOOD AND PETROL ALSO CANNOT TELL THE DIFFERENCE AH?!"
Guess these two incidents are hints from above to… just enjoy life. Y’know, to just breathe and chill, relax and screw work for once. Smile!
(Ironic isn’t it when I tell others to chill.)
Been having urges to eat like a pig consume a lot of food these days. Had two chapatis for supper after tuition. Yummy. It’s been too long, chapati. It’s been too long. Now, if only I can get some ice-cream…
