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I'm staring out into the night,
And trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
and feeling good don't ever cost a thing,
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.
I'm going home to the place where I belong,
where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm running from you know I think you got me all wrong,
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.

-Chris Daughtry

12:21 AM
It's funny how time seems to stand still when night falls, don't you think?

I've always had mixed feelings about this time of the day. Hunched over the dimly lit computer screen and nursing my daily caffine fix amidst the darkness, I finally feel at peace for the first time in weeks and I remember why I've always had a special affection for the night. To be honest, I feel inadequate - my miserable vocabulary failing to capture and bring across even the slightest bit of magic that so visibly surrounds us when night dawns. I haven't always felt this way of course, but it's been so long since I've sat down and truly savoured the richness of a novel that I've forgotten what it feels like to be inspired. It may sound ridiculous but I sorely miss the times when the greatest joy was a good book and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day. But somewhere along the way, life came along and swept me off my feet into the occasionally embarassing and perpetually nerve wrecking arms of adolescence.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure that I must have came across as the typical geek with an exceptionally lousy haircut and absolutely no penchant for academies. I can't remember when I started reading or why I even picked up a book in the first place, but I never forgot how I was obssessed with the Hardy Boys. It sounds far fetched, but I used to head down to the library every week and borrow loads of Hardy Boys novels, stuffing my bookbag (no crumpler then) till it just about burst at the seams. A dozen books at a time, and I think I got through the whole of the series in about a year. No small feat considering Hardy Boys had a couple of hundred books to their name! I could probably get through 3 or 4 of those books in a day now, but back then it was awfully hard to waddle through all the books that I lugged back home. I read everywhere, on the schoolbus and during recess, when I was supposed to be working on my assignments and even during lessons. Never really got rid of that habit though, I think I continued to be told off by teachers for reading all the way up to when I was in secondary 4.

But I digress.

I've spent most of the past few months complaining bitterly about the lack of time, but now I find myself with so much time on my hands I'm pratically oozing worms out of my ears. I can't figure it out really, afterall I shouldn't have much time left in between everything that I'm doing. I sleep nearly 12 hours a day, watch movies on youtube till my eyeballs are threatening to pop out of my sockets, devote a minimum of 9-10 hours a weeks to soccer and spend at least 3 nights a week on dinners, get togethers and whatevernot and still I'm totally, comprehensively and positively bored out of my wits. I can't exactly remember how long it has been since the A levels, but I'm quite sure that it hasn't been that long and already I feel so lifeless. Goes to show that freedom ain't exactly the bed of roses that we've made it out to be, no? Can't wait to get my life back on track, but I can't deny that I'm missing my friends just that teeny weeny bit. After 12 years of formal education, the prospect of waking up each day and NOT having to trod sleepily to school takes some serious adjusting. No more messing around in the canteen, no more dinners after training, from now onwards, getting together's going to require real human effort. I don't want to lose the many friends I've made over the past 2 years, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I probably won't see many of them ever again. If I'm lucky, I'll bump into them along the streets and we'll exchange wry smiles, each a poignant reminder of junior college life that's ever so bittersweet.

I remember stepping into college with an arrogant smile and hating the school logo. I remember calling up my cousin in the middle of orientation 1 2005 and complaining to her about how everything from orientation to the uniforms to the people in the school were stupid. 2 years down the road, I still hate the school logo and I still think (some parts of it) orientation is stupid but I can sing the school song (I HOPE) and dance the mass dance, and proclaim loudly that I will do anything for some of my friends in college. Yes, they're THAT important to me (but don't get big headed you pricks!).

Oh bloody hell.
Now look at me, ranting and raving on and on and on.
You all probably don't even care, do you?
Bugger.

Dinners soon yeah?
Don't work and work and work in the noble name of learning. Whoever said that you can't learn anything from being out with your friends! Besides, you know what they say! All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. (: