Old Journal

I rediscovered my old journal, tucked carefully under the clothes in the cupboard. I never thought that it would survive Mom's massive cleaning sprees. It seemed to me that she had helped me save that precious little book of mine.

In the beginning, the journal wasn't meant to be one. It was supposed to be a St. John's Ambulance book, detailing all the songs and rules that members have to abide to. But I ceased to be a member once I graduated from primary school and the book somehow, along the way, became my journal. I poured my hopes, despair and various feelings into it. It absorbed my tears. I doodled in it. My Dad once used it as his Sudoku book. My brother sketched images of robots and dragons in its pages. =.=lll

All in all, it has been with me for the past 9 years - an amazing feat for someone who has a knack for losing things.

This is a Malay sajak I wrote in the journal back when I was 17. Go ahead and laugh if you want to.

Nampakkah engkau
diriku yang sebenar
di sebalik topeng bermuka gembira
senyuman yang palsu
sinar mata yang mengaburi
realiti
Pandanganmu kabur sahaja
matamu terlalu memilih
mungkin telah hampir buta
Di antara engkau dan aku
ada satu
dinding kaca yang kabur
lihatlah dengan teliti
perasaan hatiku
Nampakkah engkau
sekarang?

I just realised that I haven't slept in ever since I came back from Perth. At 8.15 am sharp every day, my mother and father would drag me to breakfast at their favourite kopitiam.

This morning, I got my hair cut. Haha, sorry to friends who have yet to see my long hair. It is now non-existent! Not that I mind anyway...

And I checked my results in Oasis - I PASSED! I am not as happy as last semester, but I think that is because I am less worried this time around. I did what I could during the exams, and I told myself to accept reality, regardless of the results.

To my beautiful and hardworking Yuin-cheh, GOOD LUCK and ALL THE BEST in your finals! I love you always and always. Can't wait to meet you!

Going Home

2 more days and I will be home. I am not as excited as I should be, because I am fretting about storage and packing things all the time.

Finally, I am sitting on a bed that is without any covers or blankets, in a room almost devoid of my personal belongings. Currently, my stuffs are all in the living room, waiting to be moved to my friend’s house (I don’t know where it is, so I just have to wait for my friends to come by).

I will miss this room a lot. 10 months of familiarity and routine are not easily forgotten, you know. I do hope I will return to the same place next year, but things are very hard to predict.

I am anxious about going back. Will there be drastic changes at home? Will everyone still look the same and act the same? Will I still be able to recognise the scenes and landmarks of the highways I used to travel on?

Edit: Got my books and other miscellanous items to my housemate's new home. I hate this helpless feeling when I have to depend on others. But I couldn't be more thankful for their help. Thanks Amy, Kevyn and Ranekha.

Some Unspoken Words...

... cannot be written down either. There are moments when I consider privatising my blog, giving access only to few select readers. Some of the things I really want to convey in this space, could be hurtful to people I care about. Then again, harbouring those thoughts at the back of my mind doesn't exactly make me any less guilty.

Might consider getting myself a journal this summer break...

I am not perfect, so shoot me.