it's 2.40 am. which is irritating cos i have class at 9.30 am tomorrow. a class which i don't really feel like attending anymore, except for the fact that the teacher actually takes attendance.
it's these odd moments when you wonder what you are doing with your life, and how pathetic it seems compared to what everyone else seems to be doing. which is obviously not true, but still. i want to go to sleep, but somehow, i feel obliged to finish a coherent post, because i owe myself that much. it's been more than a week since i wrote anything, and i think it's about time.
why? i don't know. i never realised writing could become a chore for me. in a way it still isn't. but somehow i wished i was doing something else. like sleeping. and it gets me wondering whether writing was always just a substitute for someone to talk to, and i suppose it is. so now i don't really need a substitute anymore, i just don't feel like writing.
which is sad really, cos i think i can write moderately well. at least i think so. i remember in primary 6, my english teacher told me i couldn't write. and i proved her wrong i suppose. and i realise i've told this story before, and it isn't even entirely true, because i don't actually recall her ever really saying to me i couldn't write, i just had that impression. the following story is true though. once we were supposed to bring something to class to submit, but it was announced by the principal that we should bring it in a few days later. somehow, i was one of very few people who actually heard the announcement. so i happily left it at home. but this very same teacher collected the thing on the wrong day, and insisted i had forgotten to bring it when i knew it was not due for a couple of days. so she actually called my mom and told her that i didn't bring the thing, even though it really did no good. i suppose she was hoping my mom will do something horrible to me or something. but later on, when she went to turn in the stuff to the principal's office, she realised that she was in the wrong. and i remember quite clearly that she never really apologised at all.
it's such a stupid thing to remember, but it was one of my very few memories of nanyang primary, which just goes to show how horrible i found the place. i now realise i have no idea why i told this story. i must have had a point somewhere.
i realise that among my good friends, i've been blogging the longest, and i wonder why. most times i enjoy it, but a lot of the time it feels like so much of a chore, like if you had a blog you were responsible somehow to your readers, even if it's just the 3 of them. so here i am fulfilling a responsibility i suppose. i will keep writing of course, because on most days i love it. but it's almost 3 am, and i need to go sleep.
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