Dear Diary.

I usually crumble and cry when writing this kind of thing. The last time I tried writing an all honest, no nonsense rant, my eyeballs almost fell off. But anyhow, I’ll manage somehow. In fact, that’s the case here. I can’t cry. I feel like a dead stone, even stones have more life than me. I lost my spark. I lost my it factor. I guess, that’s a bad thing. I thought of when it started happening, not that it wasn’t happening already. But when it really tried to surface my amazingly adventurous, placid life. I am the kind of person who does not get affected on anything. I am a catalyst, or rather I was. That’s not the point. The point is, I lost it.

That night, I was the star of the night (at least, I thought I was, at the back of my mind), the surprise center of a candy. I would’ve been alright. I was a nervous wreck for all I care. I had one goal and one goal only for the night - to give all I’ve got. And I did. I think I gave away too much. After I did an amazing job (according to most people anyway), I just felt drained. It didn’t help when a friend mentioned my father. I was dreading that part, I knew it was coming. I was going to collapse at the mention of this thing. But I didn’t. I held my ground. I pulled through. I should be happy. This is one of my greatest achievement. I’m not even sure how I got there. Well, except for the fact that there were a lot of heartaches and misunderstandings endured, but we pulled it off. And after that night I just lost it.

Imagine me as a previously perfectly functioning ball pen. I’ve been functioning properly the whole time. Until I run out of ink. When I did, I am still a ball pen, except that I wouldn’t exactly be a real one because I couldn’t be used to write anymore. It’s like I’m dripping all over the place, disappointing people because I used to be a real good ball pen. I think I lot of people depended on how a good ball pen I was. Now, I’m just a leaking, barely there ball pen. Dysfunctional and hormonal. 

Most of the time, I feel like crying. Sad thing is, I can’t. I know so. I’ve been squeezing my tear ducts. I just can’t. That’s why I feel like I’m a stone as well. Unfeeling and mean. One time, I snapped at my poor classmate. He was loud, like he normally was, reasonably eloquent and getting on my nerves. And, something happened, something that hurt my pride that I’ve been so carefully nurturing(I don’t think, it’s a good thing to do). That poor, poor guy received the aftershock of my patience’s demise. He deserved better. I just lost it.

Behold, my dear friends, the top of the iceberg. My ever increasing issues that I’d rather not deal with, I believe, is tolling up on me. I hate myself for it. I apologize from the moon and back to the double-edged words I’ve been slurring, for my inexcusable silence and indifference to a lot of things. I’m sorry. I am able to come up with lists of reasons to preserve my pride. But I won’t. I don’t deserve it. I hate my pride. It gets the better of me. To say that I have not been working on this stuff is pointless. Because I have. I’ve been trying to snap out of it. I just won’t. My faith, my rock. It’s slipping away from me. I’ve never been so insecure.

Right now, I would look at my future in dim uncertainty. Not as bright as I would like. I’m scared and tired. I have no idea what I’m suppose to do. I’m stuck. I despise being stuck yet I know I still have to deal with it.

Rejoice!

I joined our school's frisbee team. It was a lot of fun. For a first timer, joining a team was challenging, but fun. There was a practice every week. It was tough for a not-so-sporty person like me. But I tried my best. At one point, we joined a competition. We were practically the underdogs. But our spirits  could not be dampened. Until, we lost every single match. At the middle of our second match (we had three), I just simply couldn't stay enthusiastic anymore. It's very not-me when I do so. I became bitter, like literally I somehow just thought about winning. It's very tempting to think like so when everyone else is cheering and your just patting yourself on the back. See, this is my mistake, my imperfect, not-the-way-to-go reaction. But my coach, my wise coach, suddenly snapped me out of my lowly delusions to keep the spirit of the game. You see, this is one of the reasons I joined frisbee to learn about teamwork and to keep the spirit of the game where you maintain sportsmanship and enthusiasm in your game. It was very difficult to keep a joyful heart throughout the 'battle'. In the end, winning or losing really isn't really what matters after all. We did lose, but we came home together as a team, as a family. And, I'm very glad that my coach reminded me that day. Ever since, I have tried to keep a joyful heart.

It is a sweet reminder from the Almighty.

"Rejoice always."- 1 Thessalonians 5:16

Poem: Kasia Fedyk

Manifestation

Behold your heart

be still

Behold the beauty

be gentle

Behold your soul

be free 

-Kasia Fedyk

The night sky.

The night sky that has been hidden from me.

The night sky that I want to see.

The night sky painted on the horizon.

The night sky looming over the city lights.

Oh, how I miss the night sky told by the old tales

where the stars twinkle and the moon shine.

The night sky.

Smile.

A wise man once told me that giving compliments and making people smile is free. He said that why would you go and make the effort to make someone miserable when you can effortlessly make people happy. I reasoned with this thought. But I only came to one conclusion; there's nothing that can warm a person's heart than making another person smile. So, I did that today. I put a smile on my mom's face.


"Mom, I didn't eat dinner with friends today because I wanted to eat the food you especially cooked for me."

 

My Saturday

Today was supposed to be a holiday, a rest day, a lazy day. But instead, we had a replacement class for the upcoming Chinese New Year holidays. So, we, students, dragged ourselves into waking up early and bring our heavy books to school and our homework. Then, I had Business studies, Geography(boring class, by the way), Math, and English. The day went smoothly as possible until the English class. We all had to write a paragraph that composed of 5-7 sentences about a day in beach. Our teacher, our magnificent teacher, racked our brains into using adjectives and interesting nouns to write descriptively. I tell you, being homeschooled for 6 years plus, nothing made me so nervous into handing out my paragraph. Is she going to like it? Will I get a C or a D or F? I was going nuts. But nonetheless, she is a passionate teacher dedicated to produce only the best out of students, she was sure in convincing us we can do it. As we lined up to get our papers checked, I fidgeted discreetly twisting, curling my fingers. Not knowing what to think, the teacher checked my paper silently murmurous. And then, she started correcting mistake, showing me which was that. To tell you frankly, I didn't quite knew how I felt. I was relieved that she corrected it but also disappointed I couldn't do better. And I think people would discourage me to feel that way because teachers only want the best for their students. Right? So, anyway, to make the long story short. I got an A for Content, B++ for Vocabulary, and B for Sentence structure. Not bad for a beginner, eh? Here it is, my corrected(Is that the right adjective there?) sea/beach paragraph:

The sun was faintly dimming behind in the cloudy sky. The sea galloped strangely sloshed against the defenseless shore. Three little black birds sang their glum gloomy songs to me with accompanied by the murmurous rustle of the leaves, as I heaved myself from the briny sea. Stepping on the rugged rough pebbles in the restless, secluded shore, I ran to my salvation, the sturdy shack. As I furiously ran across the seemingly overwhelming distance, the smell of the rich, tingly tangy sea filled my nose to its with delight. Feeling the spiky, bumpy, slightly tickly, and smooth stones, I distinctively felt the huge an overwhelming wave of victory and accomplishment sweep over me, as the open door of the shack welcomed me like a long lost friend.


So what do you think?
What I find most weird was when she asked me after checking my paper was:
-How long have you been in Malaysia?
-How do you like it so far?
-(if i remember it correctly, she was asking about my school before I came to this school.
  and if i was happy.)

I felt the urge to answer quickly as the world was waiting on her to check the papers of other students. I replied, for a couple of months, it's good, I was homeschooled before. I felt as if I didn't answer correctly though. I think my defense mechanism shot up or something. I have this weird radar when someone asks me and I feel like I'm being evaluated. Although I didn't see anything wrong with it, I just felt strange with her question. It's an out of the blue question, the questions that catches me off guard. I don't seem to like being off guarded. So anyway, I guess she noticed the glowering glum of my writing. What can I say? She's a perceptive woman. :)