Pheww…laziness employs sarcasm in me. At least, they have a better job to keep! New term means new ‘friends’. The ghastly idea of being in class, filled with notes in hand makes me want to throw up.
Every semester I have to remind myself that all I need to do is to keep the game going. Last time I checked, I procrastinated a lot, I slept too much, I ate heavenly till my tummy grew bigger. As every other semester, I am still discovering myself. I seek my identity in toughness. Hopefully there will be some light inside the door I am about to knock. Who am I? This is me.
Sometimes, I wish I know the value of not knowing. Sometimes, I wish I do not know some things I knew. The more I excavate the more I become nauseas. There are times when I think I should not care what happens in this world? Malaysia is shaking already. There is nobody to trust. Seriously, what is happening to us? Hatred fills our heart. Kindness is looking for a new land, far away from what we have here. I cry when nobody is looking. I scream when nobody is listening. I crawl when everyone goes with speed. I am just a minute part in this humongous factory of ‘plasticity’.
The new semester offers more homework, more extra hours of reading, more pressure and expensive hours of typing. My aim for this semester is to be NORMAL. Normal is not an average term for being me. That is unacceptable! Normal is going beyond my abnormality. I have to be brave to cross the border. This time it is for real. There is a price I have to pay for being abnormal today. Let’s just say, the price is priceless.
We live in a beautiful, fat world, filled with greed and fake smiles. I have relapsing myself after I improved a little. Sometimes, I feel that I am so cheap. They say, “Not knowing is bad, but not to wish to know is worse.” There are many things I wish I did not do, but I did. Bad things.. I did what I had to do and I am sorry to those who got hurt during my dominion. I am sorry.
The new semester remains as new semester. Soon, it will flutter away. Then, the new term approaches. The cycle goes on until the last day I stamp my feet during my 8th semester here. Then? Sayonara I guess to this ‘plastic’ camp.
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