Of archaic words and melted wax

As I gently push the folds of the dark curtain away, I realize that I have left the window open. Ah, I thought, that was where the cold draft was coming from. I latch the window back to its usual spot, furtively casting a glance at the glinting tower and dark shrubbery in the distance. The moon is bright in its comfortable spot in the sky, surrounded by stars keeping watch of the night. Then I look at my watch. 2.20am. Bed time, I mused. But not yet. There are still things I have yet to do.

I hum a bit, flip through my notes, crank up the volume of my music. I browse through webpages, look up videos, and entertain myself ceaselessly with parodies and remixes. I have a look at well-written stories, feeling my heart twist at every anguish a character faced and rejoiced happily at their successes.

It is my favourite part of the day. 

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"Hey," someone asked me once. "Do you ever regret?"

"Regret?" I asked in return. "You're talking about twenty years of my life here, my friend. Which part of it, exactly, would you want to know about my regrets?"

"Everything." Her voice was wistful. "From leaving the country you were born to your very own choices...to the friends you have, to the one you chose to stand by you now."

Ever the poetic, she was. I wanted to laugh hard. It wasn't the time for serious questions; it wasn't the time for reflection. Reflection was best done in the deepest of the nights; in the silence of nothing.

"I regret nothing."

"Will you return?"

"You're not the first one to ask me this question," I said. And she truly wasn't. I have had this question asked to me for about fifty times now. "The answer, as you would expect, is no. I don't intend to return after graduating."

She raised an eyebrow. "But you return in the summer."

"Ai, that I do," I replied with a laugh. "For there is still worth in me returning - but only for the moment. I don't intend on returning this year - and possibly the years after that."

"This year? 2015?" her voice was hushed. "But you have returned all these while, every single year...without fail. In fact, didn't you return twice last year?"

I did, of course. But I had had a five week break between May and June and, I wanted to argue with her, I spent most of it outside Malaysia. A bit of business down in Singapore, a little bit of time in Japan. And at the end of the year, I was shimmying my way up the streets in China; watching the Flamenco in Spain and Portugal. A letter came to me in January - happily telling me that I had been close to Honours but despite these excellent results, had not been able to gain entry. We encourage you to try again in 2016, the letter had said. I had crushed the desire of prestige deep within, scowling for weeks on end until the pain of rejection numbed into a tiny, prickling flame. I was, indeed, in the world's 37th-ranked Law school - that didn't mean I didn't want to stop climbing up, though. I was determined to excel, clambering atop everyone's heads and trying to impress myself silly. I had flew along one of the most challenging years in 2014, and I had no intention of stopping.

I had changed - more so than I realized. My vague dreams were re-shaping themselves into something more concrete; something more achievable than what the old, sad high school girl could have imagined. There was more strength now - more happiness, more determination...and yet, of course, old fears and shadows remained.

"What area of Law do you intend to specialize in?" she asked, curious. Her previous question was all but forgotten.

I wrinkled my eyebrows in distaste. "Definitely not Corporate. Not property. Not Taxation." I sighed. "International Law is, of course, on the top of my list. I'm doing Politics as a second degree, after all. I need to specialize in more than one area though, as you might know. I'm doing Forensic Law as a summer paper...and might head into something more Criminal-related after that."

She gaped. "That's not something I hear often."

"Course not." I gave her a cheeky smile. "But then again, I never did want to go down the commonest path."

"So. Politics."

"I'm gettin' in the game," I sang.

"Yeah?" she questioned, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I'm doing Chinese Foreign Policy and Islam and Terrorism and..."

She stopped me right there. "Yep. Girl, you're gonna give 'em hell."

"Gee, thanks. I really hope so." I thought about everything that was on the news nowadays and shuddered. It wasn't all candy canes and lollipops. There was real murder going on out there, and the threat of war.

"Thought you wanted to do English?"

I snorted. "Oh, you remember that dream."

"Is it no longer a dream?"

I thought about how to grace this question with a decent reply without going into a deranged explanation as to how torturous it was to investigate the inner-workings of Shakespeare at 9am with nothing but cereal for breakfast. "I still dream of writing a book. But for now, that will have to wait."

And then we sat in companionable silence.

"And how is he?"

I didn't need a dictionary to figure out what my friend was saying. "He's good. Charming. Amazing. Doing well in Medicine."

My friend snorted. "Right. And you're totally in lurrrrrveeee." 

I shrugged. "Hey, it's been a year."


And it had been. I thought about the dark hair that tickled my cheek when I leaned in to kiss him on his cheek, the way his blue-green eyes sparkled when he laughed at my terrible attempts at humor. I thought about the way his arms could lift me without hesitation, the way he held me in the darkest of nights. No, no, I regretted nothing of that. It had been a year since we first started dating, and I was certain there would be many more. Come to think of it, I needed something for his birthday...and for our first year anniversary. I shook my head, knowing I was becoming as bad as one of those girls on a reality TV show.

"Have you ever thought," another friend asked, her mascara-tinted lashes fluttering, "what would happen if you lost him?"

"Of course," I answered stonily. "But who am I to say what's to happen in the future?" I was hanging onto wild hopes with a stubborn flair, I knew. And it wasn't my place to reveal what I thought about that.

How was it, I thought, that I managed to despair for myself and the world? Here I was, aching about what to get my boyfriend for our first year anniversary, and yet another part of me was concerned for the world and what it was getting itself into.

You're not so special, Anne, I told myself firmly. People worry. As humans, our fates are tied. A nuclear war would affect an entire region, possibly the world. Terrorism holds sway over everyone. Everyone worries. They have to worry about their personal lives because they choose to, but they worry about the world because they must. And somehow, just somehow - my mind strayed off, wondering to what the world would be like for me if war ever came to my doorstep. Old stories would replay themselves; and everything would change. I would have to be ready to die, if anything.

And as I sipped the alcohol-stained drink (rum and cola - not whiskey, please) with the bar's immensely loud dance music booming in my ears, I wondered about my ability to survive.

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Another murder, I thought lazily, flipping the pages. Forensic Law was interesting. Dark, yes, but interesting. I went through the grisly details mechanically, examining the blood stains and the bullets on the paper before briefly wondering whether this would be what I was doing in time to come. A family all killed in cold blood? Oh, the police would have a field day. I looked at the pages and laughed. Sometimes, sometimes - I felt that I was truly unhinged.

If I could be bright and brilliant and lose my sanity in the process, then I would gladly do it.

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"I'm gonnaaaa pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocketttt..."

"Oh, Anne - you just found some cheap deals at the local thrift shop, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"Stop singing that song."

"What what what what WHAT -- "

"Shut. Up."

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My brother stared at me with nothing short of increduility.

I stared back, defiant.

"How..." he whispered. "You're not normal at all, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Rude."

"Your voice is deeper than Justin Bieber's. You don't walk, you stomp. You speak like a man. And most importantly..." at this, he shuddered. I waited for the inevitable. "...you don't like The Bachelor?!" 

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"Drinks tonight?"

"Can't." I sighed wearily. "I'm buried in work."

"...Drinks tonight?" my brother asked again, hope in his face that all-too-well resembled mine.

I slammed the book down. "Damn, you know me too well."

And as we stepped into the club, I laughed aloud at the eagerness in his face. He was forever my irritating, selfish, annoying brother.

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"We need you for this." Dark eyes looked up at me. "And it is worth a lot, I can tell you that."

I took in a deep breath, suddenly finding I had a lot of things to think about.

Millions and millions and millions...

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I melded into the world's intricacies, and I felt it mould me into a different person. I laughed at the winter air, jumped in joy at the fabled springs, shuddered at the summer sun. I smiled at the sea with a cocktail in hand, watching as children frolicked in the waters. I trudged up the hill with my backpack, scowling as I realized I literally had five minutes to get to class. I ran around in the break with a coffee cup in hand, dodging the onslaught of traffic. I laughed at the jokes my friends made; listened to the stories they told. I walked to the bus stop with earphones in my ears, Uptown Funk blaring noisily in my head. The white heels I were wearing were far too high, but I wasn't in the mood to care. And I held my head high - for after all, I was a proud individual, happy of  myself and what I would become to be.

I was Anne.

And I had not a care in the world.

The problems would come in time. But in the meantime, I was still a young student - wild, self-absorbed, and as stubborn as any other mule could be.

Legal musings

My eyes slide to the pile of papers haphazardly strewn all over the desk, then to the files, books and folders scattered on the carpet. One laptop sits casually, charger plugged in. The other sits on the desk, an ample distraction if ever necessary.

Duress involves the illegitimate pressure exerted on a victim, and the pressure must have coerced the victim into undertaking a contractual obligation. A mortgage can be registered...but would charging a high interest rate be deemed "oppressive" under the CCCFA? A contract perhaps can be cancelled, but your client would want a remedy. Or an order for specific performance. Why not have both? What if your client is a rapist and seeks you to defend him? Seek to ensure that the trial judge has given the appropriate directions; and would you want to plea? Ah ah, perhaps you have conspired - conspired to murder instead. Are you insane? Do you want to plead insanity as a defence? Of course you can, but the consequences can be dire. If you venture into the realm of Public Law, perhaps you may be looking for a judicial review. Illegitimacy. Natural justice. Unreasonableness. Look to the statute, look to the law - for the statute is absolute, as is Parliament. Sovereignty. Crown. 

The journey has been far more challenging than I have thought it to be. 

With more than a thousand pages of of readings and several hundreds of cases and probably hundreds of statutes, all I can ask myself silently was: what have I done?

It is inevitable. I chose this path. I will not back out.

The path of a second year law student is well-known, at least in this university, to be the most back-breaking one of all. All first years go through the elimination process specifically for this purpose - if you are not good enough, it would be well better if you chose not to attempt second year at all.

They make you do the evil deed - compulsory papers. Property, Contract, Criminal, Public.

My eyes glance to the certificates on my wall; the awards I have achieved. I think back about the trophies gathering dust back home, my vague memories of CHS and everything in between.

The past me would have admired my current self...probably.

Respectable.

Hardworking.

Plundering through texts like some sort of freaking scholar.

I want to do so much.

There are differences - each field of law appeals to people in different ways. My friends love Contract. Some hate it. Some find Criminal difficult; some find Property appealing. I hate Property. I dislike Contract. I am good at Public, I am relatively decent in Criminal.

"You were born to be a Crown Prosecutor."

Could I be one?

I am so used to deferring the hard decisions - think about them later, I say.

I said that two years ago.

Now the time has come.

To choose. To delve. To explore.

I wanted to do International Law. Work in the United Nations. Be some advocate or some shit writing up policies. Maybe work for the government in areas of national policy. Maybe my other Arts degree of Politics will be of some use. I miss them. I can't wait to get into my Politics papers again. But maybe I could work for the Crown...be a Crown Prosecutor. Instead of defending criminals, I punish them.

Justice.

How nice, to be a sword of justice.

But it is not. The Court is a playing field of legal terms and legal arguments, and it is far different from what everyone imagines it to be.

Delivering my plea in mitigation was one of those challenging experiences. I dressed up smartly, lawyer-in-training-ish, stood in the District Court, and looked at the acting judge in the eye. Then, taking a deep breath, I began.

"As it pleases the Court, Counsel's name is Ms. Lim."

I participated in the mooting competition.

"Your Honour, it is the appellant's contention that Article 45 should be included in the contract. As the case of Interfoto v Stilletto Picture Library states..."

Now as the end of the year draws near, I am faced with terrible decisions, mounting stress, and more hard decisions. I am faced with the little hurdles of life, and they make everything seem so much harder.

I'm waiting for the breakthrough. But I realize that can't come without hard work.

Steer the wheel, Anne.

You have to see this job to the end. 

And when it comes, you will fall and pick yourself up for another new day. 

I wouldn't do it by myself, though.

I will have the person who means the most to me by my side. 
 

You soar on skies and the heavens of my dreams

When the clouds hang low and blue skies fade, leaves of autumn flutter to the sidewalk and crinkle like pieces of faded memories. Take a photo and filter it, have it developed and plastered to your wall. Admire the place you are in, the world you stand at. You have lived and lost and gained so much. You can breathe in deeply and let the moment stand by gently just for a moment; have it disappear into the crash of silent waves far, far away. In that moment, you are allowed to feel. To touch. To cry. To impulsively love and hate and want. You can fight a battle against yourself and that itself is justified.

Dealing with loss is probably one of the things which everyone faces in life. And ashes to ashes, dust to dust - there is sorrow and darkness that unexpectedly descends; a sandstorm on a peaceful day. The nexus of loss and a continuing loss of control is not to be forgotten; but to be worked around with. Islands, jet planes, the screams and shouts of a drowning man, the lost lives of those who have had so much potential - let them not be forgotten; let them go with dignity. The truth will stay hidden until it is unearthed, similarly to so many unexplained things in the history of mankind - where it is a web of complexities filled with lies and deceit. And yet it is all too painful when there is a connection to us. It is clinically analysed, and the numbers fill the statistic bars - but sometimes it is easy to forget that once upon a time, these people were individuals. They were part of society; they were loved and appreciated and honored by others.

Being brave is perhaps the most difficult thing to be asked of by someone who faces an emotional wall standing ramrod straight in their way. But in the face of loss and grief, we must be - because if not, what is to happen to the very foundations of mankind? Have we forgotten about those whose lives were lost in the war, the very ones who sacrificed so much to maintain peace on earth? Bravery is an essential quality of mankind, something that all man, woman, adult and child should strive to possess - for bravery is not judgmental nor sacrificial, it is the purest cry of a human soul that bares its strength for the world to see. Bravery changes live. It makes people try. It makes people live. It makes people love.

There is hope after the tired ache that goes through your head - and that stems from the people around us; people who care. Sometimes, we strive to connect so much that we forget to notice the important ones who would have willingly stood for us at every second of the day. Do not shut them away.

This time, I won't.

This time, I will love and give you my all. You've hugged me and kissed me and given me all the support I have ever needed. We've communicated over the summer with letters that ranged more than 3,000 words each. We know each other because we want to. We could've ended up friendzoning each other but we didn't. I would say it to your face just how amazing you are but I can't - yet. You've taken me to places and gave me all your best to keep me warm, happy and safe. You've opened doors and kissed my hand and lugged my drunk arse home and have been proud of my achievements. I'm proud of yours, too. This time, it shall be a relationship and a friendship and everything in between. This time, I truly mean it.

For the first time in many years, my feelings for someone have been reciprocated.

And I'm damn well gonna enjoy it.

"2014, do you hear me? It's Anne, knocking on your door."

This is an honest post.

The days have been filled with an endless heat - the sort that enters your head and rattles desirous thoughts for buckets of ice and a voyage to the North. A strange calm has settled over, and I intend for it to stay that way. Not many have realized that I have returned - and if they have, the realization was done through Facebook photos of Anne at some obviously-Malaysian-place with obviously-Malaysian-friends. Not really rocket science.

Sentimental feelings aside, returning to Malaysia hasn't been a walk in the park. My temporary stint of a part-time job felt miserable and was as miserable as it sounded. It didn't help that the Myvi I drove had an incident with a pillar as well - and if anything, that minor accident just made me want to stay at home even more for the rest of the break until I could return to New Zealand again. My brother, who was supposed to stay until after Chinese New Year, had spontaneously decided to return to New Zealand two months earlier than planned for quite a similar reason - not feeling at home back in a country where everything felt foreign and unfriendly. 

I understood what he meant, and yet at the same time I couldn't help but feel the twinge at irritation at the way he just took off. It didn't help that our family went at each other's throats easily - we pissed each other off constantly, and our relationship with each other was as fragile as it seemed. 

There are three children in this family. 

There is an eldest daughter, a son in the middle, and the youngest daughter. The eldest daughter probably has more mental issues than she would ever voice out - the son is an escapist who only pursues the finer things in life - while the youngest daughter is here, there, and everywhere where she is needed. It's all very vague and mysterious, as I like to funnily put it sometimes, especially where everyone is so terrible in communicating. We all have unresolved issues with each other, and yet we refuse to talk about it. And perhaps this isn't just a problem in our family, but in many others as well. We're dysfunctional and we know that, but it'd kill for us to ever admit it. 

I don't speak about my family often. My friends in New Zealand know that I don't have a particular fondness for Malaysia, and they know that I'm not that close with my family - but at the same time, it's not as bad as it seems. I try to hold everything together. I send handmade cards back home. I do long emails. We Skype, uhm, once in a few months. Probably. 

The question I have always been asked is how I've coped without my family, and I've been called crazy for not actively missing them. The answer is that until this very day, my education has been funded by my parents - so no matter what I say, I am and will always be indebted to them. And my parents have nothing but my gratitude today for supporting my education. Whatever that has happened between them and I in the past - every nasty thing that I may have said about them, every single murderous thought I have had - it matters no more. It's a thing of the past, and if there's anything my coping mechanism is good at, it's at suppressing anything I feel is bad until I don't feel it anymore. Right now, there is gratitude - and right now, that is more than enough.

The thing about blood is that it is not always thicker than water, and blood does not necessarily equate to family - but regardless of how I feel, or what I think - the point is that I have been provided with an opportunity, and I will do anything to make this opportunity work. Maybe my family will fall apart, maybe the world around me will die - but it matters not. In the meantime, I'll do what I always have to do. 

The age of high school has long passed. Gone are the days where I've been helpless, confined to the permissions of teachers and what seniors have thought about me - gone are the days where I've had to be subjected to criticism or rumors. Gone are the days where people have refused to take me seriously, gone are the days where I have had to live in the shadows of others. My heart has long left, and I've long disassociated myself with anything that I believe would only harm me - this includes many things about this country, and old ideas which have only proved to be self-destructive than anything else. 

I used to hate a lot, but I've realized that it's better to disassociate than to hate. Hate destroys. Disassociating yourself, on the other hand, is cool - calm - forgiving, accepting. As zen as that shit sounds, it does hold some merit. It helps that you're away from the source of estrangement, where you can focus on working for yourself. Self-improvement helps - it gives you a purpose. It makes you want to do better for yourself and no one else. It's beautiful. 

And that, mates, is what 2013 has been for me. 

I don't want to elaborate too much on it because the previous posts have been terrible - so I'll focus on my achievements instead.

I lived in one of the more prestigious halls this year, hence most of the time my activities have involved going to formal dinners, practicing the piano, doing one or two performances here and there, and meeting new people. That has been incredibly productive for my non-existent social skills, I hope. Being involved with the Magazine Committee and a LAWS101 tutorial coordinator (which isn't as epic as it sounds, trust me) was quite memorable.

My story, "Time Agents", was also published in KL Noir: White this year.  It was merely a short 2,000 word story along with the works of others, but it involved time-traveling, May 13th, and some mindfuckery - so I'll say that it's a start. I would have submitted another one for KL Noir: Blue, but they refused to take in people who have been previously published in other Noir volumes. Meh. Keep writing, Anne - one day you'll write a bestseller. Wait for it, wait for it. 

And the most important part was getting into second year Law, which I have done. 

Trust me, that was probably the thing that weighed down on me the most. 

Only two-hundred students are accepted into second year Law from the previous six-hundred in first year. You would need a minimum of B+, and of course, you would need to be in the top two-hundred. No pressure, mate, no pressure at all. It didn't help that I was having the Asian-inferiority syndrome, especially where I spoke so differently from everyone else. I had to put at least a hundred cases into my head and use them in a given case, analyze legislation, and assess a party's liability. No pressure, of course, on also being the only person in my entire hall who was doing an odd blend of Law, Politics and English. Of course I had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into, but I knew I had to do it anyway. 

Did I go out and have fun once in a while? Yes, I actually did. I went clubbing, partying, got myself drunk, got others drunk, had others get me drunk...the list goes on. It's terrible, actually. I also procrastinated like nobody's business. Terrible, terrible Anne. People seemed to enjoy getting me drunk. They say I'm funny when I'm drunk. I don't find myself funny when I'm drunk. I find myself annoying when I'm tipsy, because I laugh and hug people too much. I get handsy. I become happy. And I end up thinking that everyone around me are hot and beautiful. Yech. Chris gets handsy when he's drunk, too - you ever had a ginger walk up to you in the middle of the street and give you huge, epic hugs? That's Chris for you. Avi, on the other hand, throws pumpkins (legit pumpkins) into your face when he's drunk. He also punched me, so I punched him back. 

Good times, man. Good times.

Hey, Anne actually enjoys being an asshole one in a while. Don't knock it till you've tried it.

There's been some disappointments in 2013, too. Attempts in a relatively-stable relationship have failed, because Anne is plain terrible in wooing guys and is yet excellent in rejecting the ones who are after her. Anne did not make the cut to be the next Council's Secretary - now that was a major disappointment that had me moping for days.

Kolya's death haunts me, too.

In other words, 2014 - I wonder what you have in store for me. Will you be good? Will you be challenging? Will you be a spectacular fuck-up, or will you be one of the greatest years in my life? I guess it depends on me, doesn't it - what I make it to be, what I put into it.

So let's do it.

I need to do a super long wrap-up post for 2013 soon!

Unfortunately, I'm back in Malaysia

Home is neither here nor there but where the wi-fi automatically connects.

I miss the ones who I would drink tea with amidst the background of the setting sun, having lively discussions about Supernatural and Doctor Who.

I miss the ones who I would discuss controversial topics such Law and Politics with, our anger and ferociousness annoying and amusing others at the dinner table with us.

I miss the ones who I would drink with past twelve, and we would bar-hop and sing amidst the drunk in the street - smiling and laughing despite South's deathly chills.

I miss the ones who I would wave and say hello to.

I miss the one who once did a pinky promise with me in his sombre, professional voice. 

I miss the one who I held hands with to McDonalds at one in the morning. 

I miss the one who would barge into my room at eight in the morning, flicking my light switch on and running away quickly while I screamed obscenities. 

I miss the days where you and I did our duets on the grand piano, even though you were honestly the one who did most of the work. 

I miss the ones who we would talk about our guys of choice with.

I miss the ones who I would cheerily tease.

I miss the ones who studied with me in the ACR, where we traded dubious looks and mischievous glances. 

I miss the ones who acknowledged my presence, my capabilities, my existence. 

Even if I have failed to be the person I have hoped to be there - even if I have failed to prove myself as worthy - it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter and it never mattered. And I don't care what others say - if I were to be choked in a country as stifling as the one I was born in, you might as well take away my life. You might as well kill me. 

Three more months to endure. 

Ugh, I whine too much. 

Yes, yes, I do.

This is a deep post. I am truly sorry.

There are times where you enjoy yourself so much that you forget about everything - who you are, who you were, and everything who you would like to be. Those are the the moments where you throw your head back laughing, screaming something unintelligible over the rush of happiness. Those are the wonderful, precious moments.

But those moments don't last forever and they never will - for if you do not solve the problems that give you grief in the long run, you'll never be able to rid yourself of the permanent troubles that plague you. That is probably something I've learned through these years, but it's also something that doesn't seem to really manifest in  my brain. Time after time I only come to a realization only when it's too late, when problems are so worn beyond recognition that you can't even comprehend whether a solution is possible or not. I'm uncertain, at this point, whether this is something all humans face - but then again, it has to be. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone falls. What you make out of it is up to you - but everyone has trouble getting through things and picking themselves up again. Everyone says that we should always rely on our friends - but that itself is a concept foreign to me. 

I was just looking through old blogs of mine I had written throughout high school. They were terrible, so to speak - but in the circumstances, me being me - I could understand and see where I was coming from. No matter how much I despised the old me, it was still a version of me - the crazy, manic Anne who did nothing but complained and whined and hated and ranted and raged and screamed to the world about how empty and useless and pathetic and shit the entire universe was. And there were reasons, of course - the old Anne just never knew how to deal with them. The old Anne was pretty shit, I would say - the old Anne was seriously batshit crazy, and to some extent she still is.

I'm still not good in dealing with problems effectively. I try to be kind to others, to care for them when they need help - and I enjoy doing that. I enjoy listening to them, giving them a hand, giving them advice (even though I am certain that my advice holds no merit) - I enjoy laughing with them over the little things that occur in our everyday lives, I enjoy smiling and teasing them about familiarity - unfamiliarity - everything in between. They are good people, so I try my best to be good to them.

I came to New Zealand to make friends, not enemies.

I work hard to make up for lost time, to enjoy the things I never had a chance to enjoy.

I came here for a purpose. I came here to achieve. I came here to make a difference. I didn't come here on a whim - I planned out everything since I was in high school, making sure I could persuade my parents to let me come here, making sure I had everything coordinated. I knew, I knew - that I had to escape the place where I had come from, and I won't call it home because I never saw it as one. I am, by no means, ungrateful - I am grateful for the opportunity I have been blessed, I am grateful that I am alive. I am grateful that I have no financial burdens, and I appreciate the fact that I do not face any greater trials than this.

The only thing is that the emotional bonds do not truly exist. I do not miss. I do not feel. I do not love, especially. And that itself is a burden, for I do not feel at home at the place where I have come from but the place where I am at is not truly a place I have been for too long either. I call the place I am currently at "home" because I want to, because I feel that I need to - a desperation to belong somewhere, to hail from a place where I can feel appreciated. The tension that exists between the two is palpable, where I realize that the differences exist between me and others. I slip into a familiar accent back from Asia once in a while - something which I try not to do. In other words, I challenged myself to change every single aspect of myself in order to fit in. While the advice people give is to always be yourself, I was content with the idea of being a newer version of myself. It was still me, essentially - I am and always will be me - but I despised the parts of myself that I was not proud of, and wanted to build up an image where I could feel alive and be at ease with.

So when things feel like they've gone to hell and back, I ease myself up with a little bit of drinking. It wasn't a one-party thing, mind you - I had a companion who drank along with me, but who conveniently decided to fall asleep when I was dying to go out for a walk. It was dark and the rain was pouring - but I didn't care. I had to get out, I had to breathe - I felt like there was something choking me, and I had to let it out. My vision was blurry and everything seemed incredibly fascinating in the oddest ways possible - but I knew, I just knew that I had to allow a part of myself to come through. And so that was what I did in the darkness, where no one could see me in a puffer jacket. I walked. I walked with earphones on - walking away from town, and heading towards the emptier areas of the university at night. I walked past the Polytechnic, I walked past the field - I walked towards the stadium, I walked towards the car parks - I had no idea where I was headed to, of course. I had no destination, I had no aim. All I knew was that I had to keep walking - to keep running. Away from what, I had no idea. Thoughts swirled in my head but I was too drunk to actually identify them, so I shoved them away and reveled in my drunkenness. I hummed to the tune of Greenday and approached the bridge, the one that led to the sea. And for a moment, glancing at that deep swirling mass of black, I had the urge to just jump in to see how it was like. It was the death urge, and it took some effort (more like, the urge to find a bathroom because I had drunk a lot of alcohol) just to back the hell away from there and get back to the college.

People were worried.

They actually were.

I wasn't expecting for them to come out looking for me, but they had - especially after hearing that Anne had gone walking alone in the rain, half-ass drunk and clueless on what the hell was happening. They had looked displeased, they had looked worried - and at that moment, guilt welled within me. Just for an instance - and then it was gone. I was back to being aloof and indifferent, telling them they had no reason to worry and that all I wanted was a good walk to clear my head.

I was a pathetic, selfish little shit and I knew it.

I could not bring myself to tell anyone anything and I don't think I ever can. It is difficult - you never know when people will judge, or how they will see you next. You don't know who are the people you can actually trust, for they are few you are familiar with - and for the people who you might actually trust, you fear that revealing some of your darkest secrets to them might actually scare the crap outta them. And honestly, that would be the last thing you wanted. You fear that they would not be able to handle the weight - just as you've witnessed before - and so you decide that you will deal with your own problems, fears and insecurities on your own. You decide that you will be strong to others and only be weak when it comes to yourself. That would be the ideal solution.

And that will be the solution that I shall strive towards.

Aaaaaand if I could stop procrastinating and start studying harder, that would be great! Law is interesting - but some parts of it are horribly tedious at times. English is terrible as I am bad at writing fancy stuff. Politics is wonderful, but I fear for the marks of my essay.

Ah, and the nights are long...