Addiction and her name.

Hi.

Amath was shit of the century. Bio was fine. Khook kept smiling it was so creepy so I was staring at him then he caught me. And I was sleeping for bio paper 1 and bleong woke me up and she was fanning(?!) me. Lol it was awkward so I had to check my paper. I was so fucking tired I was so glad when I was done shading my last box I practically collapsed and slept. Well if she didn’t wake me up I’d have screwed that 6 questions up. Heh thanks shakee.

Random thoughts of the day.

With lit eoy coming tomorrow, I kinda just felt that lit doesn’t feel like what I expected it to be…? I expected things more … litty. More nice and pretty and romantic. Somehow I felt that all we’ve been learning are like techniques to answer and score for exams, and useless juicy gossip and shit I don’t give a fuck about. Have we missed out the part about appreciating literature? I mean, when I finish reading a good book I feel good, like really good. I’m very much awed by the ability of these writers to chain up words in such an amazing way that it touches my heart. And I believe that Chrysalids is a good book, but after all these months studying it, I don’t seem to have learnt to appreciate it from the inside out, yet. I mean, I tell people it’s a good book and stuff, but there’s something more. I know there is but I just can’t quite describe it. It’s just this feeling, this feeling that you know it can go deeper, but what is hindering me? Somehow I feel that results became something so important to all of us that we don’t remember why we are doing this anymore. Why education? To educate, to learn; or is it for pride, materials, or just because we have to? There’s so much more to what we are doing everyday. This may sound cliche, but I really feel that if we come to do every little small thing, with more thoughts, life would be so, so meaningful that the thought of death could be so painful. Nowadays, it’s like death doesn’t matter anymore. Death, is a form of escaping; of breaking away, of breaking free. Death became a symbol of liberty, to runaway from misery. It may sound kind of hypocritical for me to say things like this, but well, it just popped up out of no where. It happens all the time, random thoughts, but I never got the chance to actually pen them down, or even remember them. And I just let them pass, and carry on with the dreadful life I live, which I hate so much you won’t believe how strong the hatred I’m holding in me is. It’s been so hard to put up a strong front. I want to break down, collapse. I am doing things I know I shouldn’t do and I don’t even want to do. I have lost control over my own mind. It’s like a fucking hurricane that fucking blew my senses away. Been spilling out so much. Whatever happened to keeping clean and seal the bottle and making sure that it never leaks. I want to runaway to a faraway land. Like somewhere in Enid Blyton’s book. Goblins and shit. Perfectionism is too perfect, far beyond reach. I want to watch sunset in the morning and bake cookies at night. I want to fuck this whole routine that repeats itself a fucking gazillion times.

I just had to rant. Just had to get all these shit out of me. Or I’d get a mind-constipation and who knows if I’d have a fucking mind-diarrhea. The consequences would be dire.

You may ignore this post of shit.

Farewell. Have a nice day. Fuck the world.

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