I guess everyone always wanted things they did’t have, things they didn’t experience.
As someone who lives in a tropical country, with only two seasons, life is boring. The city I live in, the routine of going to school, and then university. And the holidays
The days I spent sitting in front of the TV and dreaming of the world I watched about. And the shadow of things I should have done.
No remarkable stories, there’s nothing like a slice-of-life stories, let alone those fantastic non-fictions. Just me and my mind elaborating and trying to fool myself that my life will be as exciting as the art and literature portrait.
Twenty-ish August, last day of student “initiation” program
We were being shouted at, sing louder, sing louder, they said. We were standing in front of the campus, sweat drizzling and standing straight. I hate this already. I said it silently. And one time they wanted someone from us to sing the march, our march, they said. So someone surprisingly came forward, me. A display of temporary brave decision followed by belittling thoughts that rendered me back to a over-sensitive girl back in the high school , who broke down crying in front of public, with shameful wardrobe, imperfect face and I believe, “so much fuss” . But the rest of the year I got great friends. But I still can’t break away from the past myself. With future looming closer I still just the girl who abandon her own mission.