He said, "So, how would you like to sleep forever?"
She replied, "Yes, please.. but will I get to live forever?"
And he answered, "One can get too tired of living."
I think I may have overworked myself to the point where I have become delirious.
I started having a flu on wednesday but I still went to dance. Then on Friday, I ran throughout botanical gardens under the sweltering sun. On sat, I stayed out late to watch the Band Concert and on Sunday, I had dance frm 2pm-7pm.
Recipe for disaster? probably.
Already yesterday I felt breathless and my whole body really hurt. My throat felt like sandpaper. Geez, I wonder what I'm doing sometimes.
So I woke up today with a throat dry enough to challenge the Sahara Desert, with muscles so painful its as if they were constricting on their own and a mind that's really so scattered I can't focus on anything - even something as trivial as watching TV.
And to brighten my rainy day, I get 2 calls from the Lit Department from CJ which can rival that of a Mafia's deaththreat. I'd rather the mafia, seriously. I knew this problem would come up sooner or later because I've been stressing over it every night before I sleep and hoping to somehow resolve it by trying to get cooperation but the circumstances are just not friendly enough to.
Suck balls lah.
I tried to explain to them nicely - I really did. I tried to direct all the blame to myself because I assume 80% responsibility as Lit Rep but would she listen to me? NooOooO.
Damn woman was more interested in condemning my class and my home tutor. Even my sister who heard the whole conversation was like "Wtf is her problem? It's like she's lecturing a dog like that." Lecturing me.. for 10 whole minutes. And the most ridiculous thing is, she asks me about the artwork and I told her that someone in my class is handling it and she says this:
"Only ONE PERSON!? What kind of attitude is that coming from your class?!"
Lady, reality check. How many people does it take to do an artwork? Seriously. And that person volunteered to do the artwork and I think his idea is bloody good, FYI.
So, thanks a lot for giving a sick, delirious person hell. You seriously picked the best day. And I had to struggle to speak rationally with you when I look around the room and I see purple hippos in a tutu dancing about and a lion eating up my bedsheet.
And you want to speak to my class tomorrow some more. Honestly, leave my class out of this, can? Even if I were to hand up some lousy piece to satisfy your obscene obsession, you teachers are AUDITIONING the pieces so we wouldn't get in anyway? So whats the difference from not submitting? It's not like we don't want to submit anything but rather,
THERE'S NOT A DAY WHERE 70% OF US ARE FREE!
Ugh. I hate you.
Now excuse me while I degenerate into rambling bullshit because the bloody tutu-ed hippo has scrambled my brain again. Oh, and my grandmother just came back home from the hospital today. They didn't discharge her because she's better but rather, she insisted on coming home. I got a feeling she's dying because she's in such bad shape. I think the hospital's giving up on her, too. And I wonder how I can sit here and think like this so objectively? I'm a bloody horrible granddaughter and I feel fucking ashamed for even entertaining the passing hope that she won't kick the bucket this month because I'm packed with school and other things.
I sometimes wonder if I'm still human.
Or, whether I'm alive inside.
Fuck la.
Turning, he said, "Why do you hold onto life so tightly when you're passing each day just for the sake of it?"
"I don't know" she replied in a faraway voice, "What's the difference from life and death? I wake up everyday feeling dead anyway."
This mused him and he laughed. "Why don't you write your stories anymore?"
And maybe - for a moment, he saw something inside of her stir. Something that was buried for so long that he almost forgot it was even there before. "Stories?" she scorned,
"How can I write anymore stories when I can't even continue mine..?"
Quote of the day: To be human, is to feel.
Dilemna of the day: I really shouldn't go to school tomorrow but since that horrible condescending woman is probably going to rape my class, should I force myself to be present since I have a clearer idea of the situation? But the purple hippo is glaring at me from that chair...
She replied, "Yes, please.. but will I get to live forever?"
And he answered, "One can get too tired of living."
I think I may have overworked myself to the point where I have become delirious.
I started having a flu on wednesday but I still went to dance. Then on Friday, I ran throughout botanical gardens under the sweltering sun. On sat, I stayed out late to watch the Band Concert and on Sunday, I had dance frm 2pm-7pm.
Recipe for disaster? probably.
Already yesterday I felt breathless and my whole body really hurt. My throat felt like sandpaper. Geez, I wonder what I'm doing sometimes.
So I woke up today with a throat dry enough to challenge the Sahara Desert, with muscles so painful its as if they were constricting on their own and a mind that's really so scattered I can't focus on anything - even something as trivial as watching TV.
And to brighten my rainy day, I get 2 calls from the Lit Department from CJ which can rival that of a Mafia's deaththreat. I'd rather the mafia, seriously. I knew this problem would come up sooner or later because I've been stressing over it every night before I sleep and hoping to somehow resolve it by trying to get cooperation but the circumstances are just not friendly enough to.
Suck balls lah.
I tried to explain to them nicely - I really did. I tried to direct all the blame to myself because I assume 80% responsibility as Lit Rep but would she listen to me? NooOooO.
Damn woman was more interested in condemning my class and my home tutor. Even my sister who heard the whole conversation was like "Wtf is her problem? It's like she's lecturing a dog like that." Lecturing me.. for 10 whole minutes. And the most ridiculous thing is, she asks me about the artwork and I told her that someone in my class is handling it and she says this:
"Only ONE PERSON!? What kind of attitude is that coming from your class?!"
Lady, reality check. How many people does it take to do an artwork? Seriously. And that person volunteered to do the artwork and I think his idea is bloody good, FYI.
So, thanks a lot for giving a sick, delirious person hell. You seriously picked the best day. And I had to struggle to speak rationally with you when I look around the room and I see purple hippos in a tutu dancing about and a lion eating up my bedsheet.
And you want to speak to my class tomorrow some more. Honestly, leave my class out of this, can? Even if I were to hand up some lousy piece to satisfy your obscene obsession, you teachers are AUDITIONING the pieces so we wouldn't get in anyway? So whats the difference from not submitting? It's not like we don't want to submit anything but rather,
THERE'S NOT A DAY WHERE 70% OF US ARE FREE!
Ugh. I hate you.
Now excuse me while I degenerate into rambling bullshit because the bloody tutu-ed hippo has scrambled my brain again. Oh, and my grandmother just came back home from the hospital today. They didn't discharge her because she's better but rather, she insisted on coming home. I got a feeling she's dying because she's in such bad shape. I think the hospital's giving up on her, too. And I wonder how I can sit here and think like this so objectively? I'm a bloody horrible granddaughter and I feel fucking ashamed for even entertaining the passing hope that she won't kick the bucket this month because I'm packed with school and other things.
I sometimes wonder if I'm still human.
Or, whether I'm alive inside.
Fuck la.
Turning, he said, "Why do you hold onto life so tightly when you're passing each day just for the sake of it?"
"I don't know" she replied in a faraway voice, "What's the difference from life and death? I wake up everyday feeling dead anyway."
This mused him and he laughed. "Why don't you write your stories anymore?"
And maybe - for a moment, he saw something inside of her stir. Something that was buried for so long that he almost forgot it was even there before. "Stories?" she scorned,
"How can I write anymore stories when I can't even continue mine..?"
Quote of the day: To be human, is to feel.
Dilemna of the day: I really shouldn't go to school tomorrow but since that horrible condescending woman is probably going to rape my class, should I force myself to be present since I have a clearer idea of the situation? But the purple hippo is glaring at me from that chair...
<< Home