Okay. Out of convenience I have moved my blog to mujahidjohar.blogspot.com. From now on Multiply will probably only be used to post my pictures, videos and other stuff, like reviews. It's just that my blog has moved.

Signing out

Over and out

I guess I've already said it a few times how I don't believe in exams. How I don't think exams are the proper calibrating tool to recognise intelligence. And reading Zayn's blog about made me think that I should take a deeper look into it in my blog.

Obviously, I still don't believe in it. Nothing's changed about that. So basically here instead of dropping a line on a blog about school, I'll write an entry specifically about exams.

First of all, I don't believe in exams not out of spite. I'm not being whiney about it. It's not the immature hate that people have for exams. It's a sincere disbelief and lack of trust of exams as a means of properly cultivating intellectual discussions, promoting academic excellence and a reliable system of intelligent calibration.

There a few points to make to support this view of exams as a negative and counter-productive tool for education:

- Like in the British education system, and in the Brunei education system, school life and the education in it is aimed very narrowly at trying to pass exams to go on to the next level, whether it to be the next grade, university or well-earning job. The main focus is to get the sufficient grades to have a better career. This isn't really a bad thing, but that is the bonus of education, not the main point of it. Education is a means of improving society by stimulating intellectual discussion about issues that concern society. It is also a means of educating oneself to prepare for the real life, for practical things. Not just facts and numbers.

- The amount of work to be done to prepare for exams are enormous. All for one paper that can determine what your next step will be. It does not take into account anomalies, the inconsistency of candidates. It does not take into account that one day can make a difference between an A-grade (or 1st) and B-grade (2nd). Illness, depression, state of mind. All can change in a few hours. By using a coursework-oriented course, such inconsistencies can be evened out over the space of a few weeks or months.

- The amount of fact-memorising is ridiculous. As one person pointed out, even professionals refer to books. Professionals. Then why do students, out of all people, have to remember obscure facts, numbers and names that in the course of their actual career can be easily referred to by using a book?

- The system is easily abused through fact-regurgitating. A person that can remember things very, very well might benefit from such a flawed system. Yet an intelligent person who has trouble remembering stuff might be crippled by such a system's dependency on fact-regurgitation.

There is a reason why sometimes I feel revision is a waste of time.

Signing out

Over and out

This Was It

SCENE 2

Sunseed: Howl. It’s morning. Rise and shine, dear.

[Howl slowly wakes up, realises it’s Sunseed]

Howl: No. No no, no. You’re not real. What the fuck are you doing here?

Sunseed: What ever do you mean, Howl?

Howl: You, GOD DAMN IT! You’re gone. You left me, all those years ago. You can’t be real!

Sunseed: Isn’t it obvious, Howl? I’m here because I care, Howl. And deep inside I know you want me to be here. Howl, look at me. How am I not real? Look into my eyes and say to my face that I’m not real. What about last night, Howl? I watched you cry yourself to sleep. Do you know how heartbreaking that was, Howl? To see the love of my life just cry himself further into his own nightmare?

Howl: No. You’re a dream. You’re supposed to be a FUCKING DREAM! You’re not supposed to be here. I’m awake, aren’t I?

Sunseed: You can’t be more awake than you are now, Howl. Do you love me, Howl? Do you still love me after all those years?

Howl: I can’t love something that’s not real.

Sunseed: Oh, still not convinced, are we?

[Silence]

Sunseed: But love is real, Howl. Isn’t that enough? You do love me, Howl. And you know it better than me.

[Again, silence. Howl broods, curses and turns away from Sunseed]

Sunseed: Howl, can I ask you something?

[Silence]

Sunseed: I’ll ask you anyway. Why does it matter that I’m real, Howl? I mean, even if I’m just in your head, that doesn’t mean I’m not real. I’m real to you. That’s what reality is. It’s what we perceive. No one else can tell you what reality is, because the truth is, they can be as, if not more, schizophrenic as you. Don’t believe what they say, Howl. I’m real to you. Isn’t that enough?

[Silence]

Sunseed: I guess that isn’t really a proper question, is it? [Giggles]

Howl: No, it isn’t.

Sunseed: Oh, now we’re talking.

Howl: What are you?

Sunseed: You.

Howl: What’s that fucking supposed to mean?

Sunseed: I’m you.

Howl: Bullshit.

Sunseed: I’m a creature of your mind.

Howl: No, you’re not. You exist in real life.

Sunseed: Yes. But the real me is happily married, somewhere with someone. [Pause.] Else. I’m your version of me fifteen years ago.

Howl: Disappear then.

Sunseed: Oh, it’s not that easy, Howl. I’ll disappear only if you want me to disappear.

Howl: I want you to disappear.

Sunseed: [in a mocking voice] Oh, my. I’m disappearing. Oh, look. My legs are disappearing! Would you look at that? Now it’s my face. Please, stop that, Howl. I’m mel…..ting… Save me, Hoooooooowl.

[Silence]

Sunseed: Howl, you have to really want me to disappear. You can’t say it but not mean it.

[Howl takes out a handgun from the back of the dumpster, aims it at Sunseed]

Howl: This should do the trick then.

Sunseed: HOWL! WHAT THE-

[Howl pulls the trigger several times. Five shots are heard. Sunseed falls to the ground.]

[Silence. Howl sighs in relief. More silence.]

[Sunseed stands up. She is bleeding, and her gown is stained with blood and on it are five holes, almost as if her gown had been dyed red. But she appears fine otherwise.]

Sunseed: Howl, I’m still here.

[Howl stares at her with disbelief, then realises he has one bullet left.]

Howl: I’ll shoot you in the goddamn head. See how you like that.

Sunseed: [laughs.] Do you think that will make any difference, Howl? I guess if you wanna talk to a disfigured face all day, then it’s your choice. But I’d still be talking.

[Howl points the gun to her head, hesitates, then with despair puts it in the dumpster]

Sunseed: Howl, it doesn’t have to be this way.

Howl: How else can it be then?

Sunseed: However you want it to be, Howl.

Howl: Stop talking in FUCKING CLICHES!

Sunseed: You stop thinking in clichés then.

[Silence. Howl starts to cry and lets himself fall down the floor. He whispers something, but it is inaudible.]

Sunseed: You know what would be lovely, Howl? A cup of tea. Yes, a nice cup of tea. Look at the weather, Howl. It’s perfect weather. Perfect for a nice sit-down picnic in the park with tea and sandwiches. Sandwiches like the ones I used to make for you. Oh, weren’t they just delicious, Howl? [Howl pays no attention, and is still crying.] Thank you, Howl. I know you liked them. Everyone liked them. My friends said they would gladly pay for them, even though I used to bring them to the office and give them out for free.

[Sunseed looks at Howl, who is still crying, although less now. She sits by Howl, and starts playing with his hair.]

Sunseed: My friends used to say bad things about you, Howl. They didn’t like you very much, did they? But I still loved you, Howl. And I still love you. Don’t you love me, Howl?

[Silence. Howl has stopped crying, but is still on the floor.]

Sunseed: Howliekins.

Howl: I… Sunny… I… I wasn’t the best for you, I know… You didn’t deserve me.

Sunseed: Howliekins. Don’t say that. Sure, the real me would think that now, but this is me, fifteen years ago. Who adores you. Who loves you. Who will do anything for you.

Howl: I know…

(light fades)

Pill, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was unfaithful, and I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I didn't know what I was doing. It was rash. It was thoughtless.

This other person doesn't mean a thing to me. Not one.

If you don't wanna be hurt, look away now:



Haha. Got you there.

Signing out

Over and out

P.S. The bottle of Stella is not mine. It's his, if you're wondering :P

The couple in question:

There's something wrong with Blogger. Mine at least. The posting time is several hours behind. Which is kinda annoying. I'm not sure how to fix it. Someone tell me. Please.

Anyways, yesterday we, in a (almost) vain attempt to surprise Adri, got surprised ourselves. Here's the lowdown. Okay. We were supposed to meat at the bazaar near Starbucks, and me and Farah was supposed to sneak up on Adri, but we couldn't find where they were. Being the stealthy sneaking sneaks we are, we tried to find him amidst all the people and the tents.

Thinking he was in Starbucks, we sneaked towards the overpriced coffee haven. But here's the funny part. Adri and the others were sitting on a bench watching us sneaking to Starbucks. All the way. So we ended up being surprised by them.

The meal at Pizza Express was good. The Padano pizza was amazing. I don't usually like onions, but the onions on the pizza were... Haha. It was sweet, and went really well with the goat's cheese. I do love goat's cheese.

Then we went to the Quarry for the Shrewsbury Regatta. Seriously, there must've been hundreds of boats there. We watched the Second VIII cruise this one boat by a few lengths. And I don't mean to brag, but our school is absolutely amazing at rowing. Our 1st and 2nd VIII both won their categories in the nationals (yes, all of England). Our 2nd VIII is better than many 1st VIIIs from other schools.

And oh, the 1st VIII beat Queen College, Oxford yesterday, I think. I'm pretty sure thst's worth mentioning.

The Bruneian Shrewsbury Posse very much getting into the action at the Shrewsbury Regatta:


Signing out

Over and out

I'm quite content with my life at the moment. Sure, I'm in a disgusting amount of debt. Sure, I probably won't get to my first choice Uni. And I'm as hell sure that this has been the most hard-working term I've ever had in my life. But despite all that - and to an extent partly because all that - I'm happy with how my life is now.

At least every three weeks I have something (or someone - Pill, that is. Haha) to look forward to. I'm having fun in school. This house, my housemates has been great to me. I like living in England. The freedom, the variety. The many things and places I can do and go to.

Not that my life is all sunshine though. Even this English summer is bound to be spoilt by the infamous English summer rain. And it was last night. Bloody thunderstorm.


But as it is right now, I'm as hell sure I'm content and happy with what I've got.

Signing out

Over and out

It's been a good couple of days, really, of school. Not too much work. Did well in my mocks. Had an impromptu barbecue, had a meal at Cromwell's. Good stuff.

On Wednesday, Lowco had the idea of having an Upper Sixth barbecue on the house pitch, seeing as it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon devoid of rain, cold and little ice things that crash onto your head called hail. We already had the grill, and a monstrous George Foreman grill at that, courtesy of Mike, and all we needed was the food. Me, Clive and Geo just happened to want to go to town that afternoon, so we ended up with the burden of having to buy the food and possibly facing the wrath of a dozen hungry sixth-formers if our choice of food was shit.

When Geo left town to go back to school for rowing - which isn't technically a sport, it's a form of physical and mental torture - it was just me & Clive to do all the shopping. With about £20 between us, we bought a massive amount of food. We found a place that sold 20 burgers for £1. It was amazing. We ended up in the end buying more than we needed. We could have possibly fed a small African nation for two weeks:

24 beef burgers
32 sausages
8 turkey burgers
6 vegetarian sausages (especially for moi. Hahaha)
8 cornettos
10 fruit splits
16 cheese slices
16 hot dog rolls
24 burger buns
and some other stuff I can't remember

All this for less than £20. We were quite pleased with ourselves. Heh.

The barbecue itself was a good laugh. Lying on the grass, eating burgers and sausages, playing frisbee. It was a good old-fashoined barbecue. Of course the only bad thing was the housemaster, Vicars, wasn't too happy because we didn't tell him beforehand.

It might be the stress of having to deal with a newborn baby. I'm not sure. I am yet to see this little Jack Francis Hugh Vicars. I think that is his full name. And the English claim we have long names. Their middle names are unnecessary. They have names like William Patrick Edward Nicholas Ian Shelly Hunter. Who in their right mind would give their child six first names? Then they try to cover it up with initials and nicknames. Willy P.E.N.I.S. Hunter.

Yesterday evening's meal at Cromwells was really good. Of course seeing as I am a vegetarian, I didn't have much choice in terms of food. Hahaha. But it was still all good anyway. The waffles were amazing, and the ice cream. Oh, the waffles. I want more waffles with butterscotch on it. The walk back to school was such a good laugh. One of the most unexpected things happened, but I'm not gonna talk about it here. Hahaha.

Good times.

Signing out

Over and out

So it's Wednesday. So it's a bit late for an update on how my weekend was. So this. So that.

Well, my weekend was brilliant. Spent with Pill, again. Thorpe Park was amazing. There's some really good rollercoasters that will blow your mind.

There's one called Stealth, that starts from a standstill to 80mph in under 2 seconds, and before you realise how fast you're going the rollercoaster suddenly goes up just over 200 feet and then you plummet back down. It's ridiculously fast and intense.

There's another called Colossus, and suggested by the name, is absolutely immense. You're basically just rolling around a loop every split second. I think it's got the world record for most inversions, as they say it. Which says something.

Nemesis Inferno is a bigger, badder version of Nemesis in Alton Towers. It's absolutely intense. Too bad we couldn't take our shoes off for the ride. It would've felt amazing if we could feel the wind crashing on our feet as they dangle under the coaster.

Me & Pill got absolutely soaked after riding Tidal Wave. Apparently 3 tonnes of water were forced into the air as the boat hits the bottom. It explains a lot. This is much, much better than the Waterfall in Jerudong Park. Waterfall has nothing on Tidal Wave. Tidal Wave really feels like you're being attacked by a waterfall. I had to take off my shirt and just wear my jacket with nothing inside. The water was so cold.

The shittiest ride was X:/No Way Out. It's supposed to be a backwards in-the-dark rollercoaster. Great on paper, but in practice, it was shit. It stopped every 20 seconds, which stopped the flow of adrenaline. And the loops were non-existent. I think in terms of in-the-dark rollercoasters, Disneyland's Aerosmith Rock 'N Roll was way better, even though it wasn't backwards.

Thorpe Park is amazing. Me & Pill have already bought the tickets for next time, and guess what, this time it's only £10 each. And it's open, so we can go anytime we want. When they said Thorpe Park is the thrill capital of England, they weren't being funny.

By the way, I got myself a new monitor. And a wireless desktop.
Sorry you can't see the wireless keyboard. You can still see my laptop, which basically has become just a PCU really. It's where I plug all my USB and stuff, and switch it on. I don't even have to have the lid open anymore. Except of course when I switch it on or use the webcam.

Yes, I think the monitor is amazing. Acer X222W it is. Yes, tech-jargon. Who wants that. All I need to know was that it's only £150, 22 inches, and is amazing for working (yes, I do work) and watching films.

I know I spend a lot of money. But most of the time I never regret my money-spending, wasting ways. This is one of those times. And the Thorpe Park trip wasn't bad either.

Signing out

Over and out

I've decided to cross-post my multiply blog with my Blogger account, so any post I post on Blogger will appear here. BuAnd mostly, vice versa. I'm doing this because Fee doesn't check Multiply that much, and most of my personal life blogging had been there. So I decided to cross-post. Saves time and the hassle, really.

And I've only realised that by doing that I've basically filled everyone's inbox (on Multiply). I'm really sorry about that. Hahaha. Pardon me. I really didn't mean to do that.

That also means on Cradle Of The Enlightened, it won't just be my creative writing stuff anymore. There'll be personal stuff there too. But I'll be picky what to post about my day-to-day on COTE.

That's it, really.

Check 'em out if you're interested

Signing out

Over and out

So yes. After exactly 2,343 years, 42 days, 12 hours and 35 minutes, the indecisive Warwick has actually done something I never thought they would do. Make a decision on my application. Of course I practically made the decision myself when I decided not to do the online interview they gave me.

Ah, yes. The irony. I was actually scared they were gonna accept me. Really, like I would've been properly gutted if they said "Okay, we want you here. The online interview? No matter. That was just a delaying tactic anyway. We couldn't decide between you and this Russian guy who speaks no English. In the end 4 out of 5 of the committe decided we want you."

Obviously that didn't and wouldn't have happened.

I'm seriously relieved that decided to finally reject me after toying with my oh-so-fragile emotions. Urm... Hahaha.

So that leaves me with three offers. I've made my mind up three years... I mean three months ago. UCL is Firm. York is Insurance. And Royal Holloway, I shall mark you as Declined. As I clicked on the 'Submit Reply' button, I scrambled freneticly to check whether I hadn't mistakenly botched it up. If I did, it would've been too late, but no, I didn't.

So that's UCAS over and done with. Bub bye A-Level world. Oh wait, we've still got four weeks of it. Shit. And oh, damn exams. Pesky little things exams are. One of the few inconvenient inevitabilities in this world along with death and taxes.

So.

So.

And so.

Signing out

Over and out

"This isn't the way I wanted it!"

He threw the rock in his hand into the distance. He watched with a quiet anger as the rock got swallowed whole by the fading golden horizon. No, this wasn't how he wanted it, but there was no way he could've changed it.

The weight on his mind felt too much to bear. All he could do was collapse onto the sand and curl himself up, closing his eyes, wishing that the next time he opened his eyes things would be different. Wishing that she'd be there, looking at him, smiling.

Walking towards him, slowly placing her hand on her shoulder, asking what's wrong.

But alas, he knew that was just wishful thinking. His reluctant tears revealed a tortured soul unwilling to open his eyes and face the world, his clenching fists revealed a man filled with anger and spite, mostly at himself. This was all his fault, he knew that fact well enough. He learned that the hard way.

The cigarette butt in his other hand was crumbling into black ashes. He didn't smoke, the cigarette wasn't his. The glow on this one has faded a long time ago. It has glowed slowly into ashes, never to glow again.

Immense melancholy blanketed his heart, the rolling tears growing stale. Eyes red he wiped his tears away. Whatever becomes of him after this, it was his to decide.

Okay. This is just a pet peeve of mine, but it's been going on for quite a while. I seriously don't like forwarded e-mails. I hate them to the core of my soul. If they were physical letters rather than zeroes and ones, I would collect them all in a big bucket, pour gasoline into the bucket, and burn the whole thing. And I'm thinking every single type of forwarded e-mails.

Every single kind. I can't think of a single forwarded e-mail that I was not angered by.

Those cute, friendship-is-forever forwards. I hate them. I like friendship. It's not too bad. But if you forward me an e-mail saying that I'm one of your closest friends, so please forward it to 30 people at least, hoping one goes back to you, fuck you. I don't need to prove my friendship over cliched e-mails and generic words. If you're thinking I'll go goo goo over that, then you're very simply just damn naive. Nothing personal.

Those preaching forwards. I despise them. I hate preachers who try and force their morals into you, trying to instil fear so that you will follow what they say senselessly. I don't need your morals. I don't need your preaching. I've got my own developed sense of morality which I don't force into other people's throat. Though I did go through a phase a year and a half back where I basically hated all carnivores. Now do I realise how hypocritical that was for someone who hates a preacher. So Papa don't preach, please.

Those pity forwards. Please forward this to as many people as you can. Each person you send to gives 30p to a sick baby in Africa. It's the most sickly kind of emotional blackmail, and what's worse is that it's not even real. They won't have any way of finding out how many times the e-mail is forwarded. It's as simple as that. It's the same as those Microsoft scams.

Ironically, these past few months I've been getting forwarded e-mails about E-numbers and non-halal stuff. It's funny because I'm vegetarian, so really, it's as easy looking for the label 'suitable for vegetarians/vegans.'

I hate forwarded e-mails. If it doesn't involve me directly, like an e-mail forwarded from a friend with details of say, a reunion, then do not even consider forwarding me one of your 7,243 different forwards.

Signing out

Over and out

I will try and do this blog in a maximum of five minutes.

Chemistry lecture, useless. Fun, yes. But only because we were sitting at the back and we got to throw paper balls at the people in front when Doc Samworth wasn't looking. There was proper carnage. A proper fucking meteor storm.

Once Doc Samworth almost lost it in a desperate attempt to regain control (which she never had really in the first place), but that was unsuccessful.

Five minutes gone. Lead. I need to go to English. Bub Bye.

Signing Out

Over and out

Tell you what. I am so tempted to buy myself an LCD screen for my laptop. Yes, my laptop screen has been broken for months. Now I'm borrowing my mate's LCD screen, and it's amazing. It's sufficiently big to show two pages side by side on Microsoft simultaneously on font 10 TNR (or even Font 8) without me having to squint my eyes. Small thing, you say. But it's really helpful since I usually have my notes on my computer when I do an essay, so it's easier to have them both open and viewable at the same time.

Even if I decide to buy a new laptop, I might just starve myself for a month to get a new LCD screen, which means I could watch a movie on my LCD screen, and do work on my laptop. Which would be great.

So I'm thinking that my budget on a new laptop would be around £400. Which now would get very decent ones from Acer, Dell or HP. Or if I'm ambitious, I can starve myself for two more months and get an AirMac. Which is totally unnecessary. And pretentious (seeing as I'm not yet used to the Mac OS). And show-offish. And silly. What I need is something that would run Microsoft Word 2012 (or OpenOffice. Or even Notepad) and Pro Evo 2012, and Football Manager 2046, all at the same time. Any suggestions?

And oh, it has to have Minesweeper and FreeCell. So a Mac is out of the question. Or does Mac have them? I'm not sure.

If you would like to contribute to the Jay's New Laptop Charity Fund, please do so. Tell me, and I'll tell you my account details so you can transfer some money :D I'm only half-joking. Hahaha. Who knows, I might mention you in my next blog if you give enough.

Signing out

Over and out

Heh. Bloody Warwick. Hahahaha.

Tell you what. They can fuck right off.

After making me wait for almost 5 months, they have the fucking audacity to send me an online interview before even offering me anything. Add the fact that they've only given me 48 hours to do it. It's not even funny. And I'm not doing it. Simple as that. I've already passed the deadline.

Okay, fair enough. Part of why I chose to not even do the interview is because I'm not even considering Warwick at all. Not my kind of place.

Do they not have the common sense to think that maybe, just maybe, that by giving an interview this close to an exam, it would be the last thing I wanna do because I might have better things to do? Like revise for my English mocks, do my two English essays, revise for my Chemistry mocks, and watch Clive game on Gears Of War?

So I'm left with York, UCL and Royal Holloway, which ain't too bad of a range of choices. Here we go. Again. First choice, UCL. Second, York. Easy-peasy. York's accomodation is unbelievably cheap, from what I've found out after reading the booklet they gave me months ago, which I only picked up two days ago.

Anyways, I'm tired as hell. I fell asleep on the phone to Pill last night. Again. I'm not sure why I'm so tired. I've done a fair amount of work, yes. Probably a lot more than usual. But I doubt that's the only contributing factor. I think I'm so used to waking up by Pill's side, and lie in until midday, falling back to sleep, and waking up to her again and again.

Maybe.

Signing out

Over and out

Believe it or not, I still haven't found out my January exam results yet. I was reminded of it just now when a friend (whose hair is bigger than mine and Mubin's combined) asked me what my C4 mark was.

Well, frankly speaking, I just can't be bothered to go and ask what my results were. I'm not really sure why though. It might be something to do with my lack of faith in exams. Stupid things, exams are. Flawed, formulaic calibrating machines they are. They expect to know all about you through a few sheets of paper. They want to decide your whole future in two hours. Such power they have. I wonder how it feels to have the power to create and destroy futures. The power to crush ambitions and tear dreams into tiny, shattered pieces.

Away from all this gloomy stuff.

Last night was the last episode of Skins, at least for Series 2. Okay, I'm not one to talk about TV shows, seeing as how rare it is for me to get hooked on a TV show. Let's see, I'm hooked on to Scrubs, Heroes and... That's about it. Everything else I just watch for leisure. That means no One Tree Hill, no The O.C., no Desperate Housewives, no Grey's Anatomy. Wow. That means I don't really watch any TV Drama. Or any teen soap opera-ish rubbish. I guess I'm waiting for Series 4 of The Mighty Boosh. Pill is even more TV-phobic. She rarely watches any TV, really. I think in the holidays, the only time she watched TV was when I dragged her to the dining hall to eat, or waiting for people in the lobby. And oh, I forced her to watch The Mighty Boosh. And Skins. Hahahaha.

It's weird not waking up to Pill in the morning. For the past three and a half weeks, I've been waking up to Pill almost every single morning. It's one of the most amazing things in the world, waking up to Pill. One of my mates, Geo, is in the same situation. He's also got all kinds of withdrawal symptoms for not waking up to his Italian anymore in the morning.

Anyways, another of my mate is going for a surgery, that apparently involves the cutting of the foreskin, which sounds suspiciously like circumcision to me. But it's not. Well, I'm not sure. To do it at his age, oh my jeez, that's got to be painful.

I want to sleep.

Signing out

Over and out

It's the first day of Summer term, and it's been okay so far. Three 40-minute lessons ain't that bad. Nothing heavyweight.

For starters, our English mocks today was not bad at all. It turns out one of the two sections, the one I was dreading, wasn't included in the paper. That came as a massive relief, as I remember a lot more from my own birth than the lines from 'Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf.'

I've got a few other mocks to worry about, but knowing myself, I'll probably be more concerned over when am I going to wash the plate with Maggi Char-Mee leftovers on my table, which will probably stay there for a few more days.

And jeez, it's hot.

Signing out

Over and out

Just in a blink of an eye, she says. Then it's gone.

I won't smile this time. The tears won't let me.

Gone, she says again. I stay silent as if I did not hear anything. My stillness is my response to her. She knows that. She knows it too well, I think. In my stillness, she sees clearly the thoughts that run through my head. Every pain, every pleasure. All the sadness, and all the smiles.

She picks up her lighter and lights her cigarette. Just like the cigarette, every part of her that glows quickly fade away into ashes. It's night. The glow of the cigarette is the only light left unswallowed by the nocturnal darkness. I can't even see her face clearly. It's only her outline, her vague silhoutte that I can see. But I know, she can see me as clearly as she would if it was daytime.

Nothing else happens. Nothing else comes. It's now so late it's early. Here is where this story ends. For now.

It's the penultimate day to the end of Easter holidays, and to be honest, it's been a pretty mixed three and a half weeks.

It's been a very intense Easter, really. The good, the bad, and the unimaginables. I don't know. It's certainly been the most interesting holiday so far in my two years here. I can never say it was the best. My grandfather's death prevented it from being so. And also the paranoia and the anxiety of things I can't quite elaborate here. I guess in all probability I will never find out for sure if our suspicions were true, but then it's mellowed out a bit, so we're looking forward now.

In my moments of weakness, Pill has been there to pick me up. Three weeks with her has been truly amazing. I don't really want to think that tomorrow is the last day until we meet again three weeks later.

And then, there're our exams. Mine will determine whether I'll live in London or York. Wow. York. Haha.

I guess York will be good for me. Away from the judging eyes, from the scrutinising Bruneian gossipers.

Signing out

Over and out

The news got through to you.

It is midnight, unnoticed as it is, it is the start of another day. Yet how ironic that it is to be the end for another person's, forever. Eternal nothingness, he has stepped into. Yet no one will accept that. He will live on, at least in our heads, in our memories. He will live on.

Eternal nothingness, as they say.

You pick up the phone, and there it is. It is to be the messenger of death, of one's eternal nothingness. No need to re-read it. No need. You knew it was coming. You expected it, it was only a matter of time. But it did not make it easier. If anything, it made it harder for you.

You drop the phone, and it fades away into irrelevance. The world blurs. You ignore the people in the room as you dash to the toilet. In one quick movement the door is locked and you collapse onto the floor. The tears fall like angels of death, if that would even make sense. It does not. You know it doesn't.

Two in twelve months. Unsurprising now it seems, yet still unwanted. Such an inconvenience, death is. Dreams left unfulfilled, debts left unpaid, love left unexpressed. An inconvenient inevitability. Yet without it, life is worthless. Life would be an irrelevant concept were it not for the existence of death.

Solace is here. Your much needed solace is just right beside you. Unmoving, your solace keeps you warm for the night. Your solace helps you sleep tonight.

Solace in death.

May your death be solace from the pain you fought through to survive.

You fought hard.

Yet death is, an inconvenient inevitability.