Saturday, June 4
cap, in my opinion, was a prestigious waste of my time. because we spent a lot of time eating and sitting around. and nus is bloody humid and the air is so
still i intend to study very very hard so i can go overseas and avoid nus, thank you very much! anyway, this is how my week went, if you are bored enough to be bored further.
monday: thought i was going to be late. hah! turns out punctuality is not much valued at cap. which is good because i've become rather fashionally late with the passing years. anyway. did nothing much but sit around, eat, play some games, and attend the poetry slam workshop. couldn't sleep at night, because my room was damned hot. turned the fan on but it made no difference. plus i was missing everyone so badly i couldn't get my mind to shut up and switch off anyway. sigh. ended up sleeping in my shirt and undies, hoping no one could look through the windows into my room.
tuesday: woke up early with a poem in my head. therefore, rose petals. after which i vow, i really do vow, i will never write another poem for her again! cos, really, i feel nothing. hahahaha. okay. inside joke. mm. i noticed something during the plenary lecture that day. this girl from my workshop group, with scars on her arm. i recognised the scars. the lengths, the shapes, the positions. the anger. but i didn't mention them to anyone else. guess it takes one to know one. that night she wore shorts, and when she sat next to me i saw more marks on her knee, and deeper, redder, angrier ones on her thigh. recent ones. but i didn't want to say anything abt them with the others around. so i waited til the workshop was over, and we were moving the chairs back in. we were standing next to each other, so i spoke to her in a low tone. she said she'd stopped cutting, and i didn't question her although the scars on her thigh were too red and raw to be from long ago. then she asked when i'd cut. told her i started in p5 but stopped last year. accurate as of now. then i told her abt aloe vera gel and we smiled and went our different ways. i guess my whole point of saying this now.. is.. nothing. except to exorcise that demon within me. the demon of guilt. somehow. when i saw those marks i felt something sinking within me, the pang of familiarity, my heart twisting. she's so bloody young, you know. okay, not that young. i was younger when i did the same. and only 3 years ago i was in her position. i did the same. but seeing those marks on her.. on someone else but me.. reading her poems, knowing her raw talent, where her inspiration comes from, her pain, her beauty, i felt i ought to do something, i ought to help her. and yet. i didn't know what to say. or how to say it. i had no right. i barely knew her. why would she trust me? i'm so much older, one of the few jc people. i didn't want to seem patronising, condescending. as if to say, oh i've been there done that, what you're going through is nothing, you'll get over it. because in truth, even if we all do get over some things, the going through it is hell, and we all have different ways of coping, some right, some wrong. she looked so small, so young, so timid, hiding behind her glasses and hair. and even her smile - it wasn't one of those beams, those sunshine smiles. it was a little shy. even among her friends, she was funny but not loud. i talked to her a little after that, but we never mentioned cutting again. we talked about listening to aqualung and other songs, reading fanfics and the slash pairings, and other miscellaneous things such as our common handphone model. but i noticed that after the night i spoke to her, she wore her jacket almost constantly [when i mentioned it, she said she wasn't feeling well, and i wondered if she meant physically or emotionally, but i didn't ask, because why should she tell the truth to me?] and she never wore shorts again. and i kept having that pang of guilt within, whenever i saw her, because in some strange, strange way, she kept reminding me of the past. i saw my old self in her. and a little of my present. i saw myself in sec2, writing poetry during chinese, and cutting my legs behind closed doors. i saw myself in sec3, when vank spoke to me abt the scars she noticed, and i panicked and became defensive. the strain of living up to expectations, the way i went crazy and ran to the toilet to cut every time i did badly. i saw her badge, she's the vice chairperson. the same music tastes, everything. and something kept whispering in my ear that i ought to do something, say something, tell her she's not alone, just make a difference. but i didn't want to make things worse. and i left without doing anything. last night, as i picked up my bag and walked out, she looked me in the eye, smiled and said goodbye. so i just smiled back and said, cya. as if we'd meet again. hah. i just hope this whole guilt thing fades because i can't do anything now. one day she's gonna publish her poems and turn out okay. i hope. cos i really like her poetry. either that or she'll turn into another sylvia plath / screwed up poet.
wed to fri: nothing much. tried to keep from falling asleep in the daytime, couldn't sleep because of the heat at night. ate a lot. avoided cockroaches at night. played truth or dare etc etc. missed my friends like crazy. swore to study hard enough to get a scholarship everyday. sigh. nothing much. really, there was more, but i keep thinking about the above and what i should or could have done, so it blocks everything else out. i don't even know why i feel guilty. i'm not responsible for what others do. it's just that she keeps reminding me of myself.. i don't mean to flatter myself because she's very talented, but it's just that she really really does. too many things to name.
i'm crazy, aren't i?
four six day. going for the party later. =D hee. in my polkadots! woohoo! =D
it must've been love.
2:43 pm
xoxo
