To err is human. Raise your hands anyone who has yet to make a mistake in your life,and then regret like hell after that. The feeling of regret really sucks-literally and metaphorically. It just has this draining effect on you-whenever your life seems to be turning up towards a rare shaft of hopeful light,your brain inevitably warns you not to be so happy yet(damn you,brain) and make you think of all the mistakes you have made...then the furtive creep of regret just edges into your heart,dimming the brightness which lasted only for a pathetic few seconds. *sighs* To me,mistakes have been made repeatedly in terms of subject combinations(a bit anti-climax yeah? WHAT mistakes were you thinking?! tsk tsk). The stupid move of dropping Higher Chinese in secondary school because of the heavy sense that I would not be able to cope with the hefty demands of the subject. but,what the hell,I took Higher Chinese in primary school and had no problems with it! What drove me to such a dumb decision was beyond comprehension. And now I have to suffer the consequences of a childish,short-term decision:offering Chinese in JC. Damn. How sucky it is to see the rest of the class sprawled happily around the stone tables while we five "Cheena LOSERS" trudge grudgingly to the hyper-ululated classroom to face an entire hour of God-bless-me Chinese lessons! Thank goodness the teacher's an angel-humourous,patient and extremly forgiving,with both eyes closed. That's the only merit to compromise for the lesson,at least.
Onto the worst mistake that I'm still grieving like hell over now-oh how my heart bleeds and how my hands ache to whack my dumb head till it falls off in a tumble of hair,brain tissues and skull fragments,and my eyeballs to jolt out in pools of semi-gelatinous substance...Much more stuff I feel like doing to kill myself,ugh. WHY THE FUCK DID I DROP KI? Oh bloody hell,it's such a torture to think about it now. KI was really interesting,with Mr Ixer's humour and eccentricity,and his mind-boggling "What if"s that screw your cells inside-out. But most of all,it's my gateway to dropping the evre-evil maths,with its torrents of numbers and spidery graphs,its endless domains and most evil of all,the terrible Graphic calculator,which always turns its much abhorred glare on me and gives me graphs that look as out of place as a number in the middle of a word-filled text. *sighs*
Why oh why? Regrets...
From time to timeI have the sad
eyes of knuckles
The sad skin of
burnt rubber on the street
The sad word of yellow
Sad cold of concrete.
From time to time
I have the moist
breath of moss
The tiny prick
of tiny things
Drowned in a blood of hair
Grown in valley of skin over.
The woe is me
of my wanting
something secretly
to seek in
To kill my last sad emotion.
