Expectations are never awaited
it will burn all your patience..
I LOVE the night sky. How I’d love to spend my time just staring at it..
I’d never done such before. I always have not enough time, I always thought.
Not enough time. Not enough time. The thing is it has been my reason to my very self. And I tend to believe that. So I live like that. Continue reading
I MISS my blog. So much. Got lots of stories to tell! Will get back to you as soon as I can. Busyness never ends -__-
WHEN I was a child, I’m fond of airplanes. Not airplanes as it is but airplanes in the sky.
Like any other child, seeing an airplane hovering above is magical –atleast that’s what I thought.
I want to see airplanes. Neither did I know, it gives me a different feeling. As a toddler, I’m longing to see airplanes so I waited and waited. Nighttime is much more beautiful. The blinking light that they made, the way it passes by up above the night sky like a shooting star..
is was magical.. Before long, I realized; airplanes made me sad.
Airplanes made me sad because it gives me hope –a hope that’ll be forever as it is. Those moments– whenever I see an airplane, I will stretch my hand and pointed it. Not yet satisfied with that action, I’ll proudly cry;
there’s an airplane!
as if being the first one to see the airplane is something.
Airplanes made me think of someone. Seeing an airplane gives me the hope of seeing that someone who is special to me. Everytime I see an airplane, I assume that my SS (someone special) is in that plane and in a moment or two, I’ll be able to meet him. I know it’s not possible but for a child, there’s nothing impossible, right?
And it goes on. I can’t help myself from assuming that he is really there in that plane I’m seeing, that he’s just there right above me looking for me on the ground –I’m hoping that I’ll see him, expecting that I’ll have him with me all the time like what I saw in any other toddlers.
Yes this goes on til I grew up –and so does the hurting.
Seeing an airplane is magical.. yet dismal.
THESE ARE the times when I don’t wanna think of things. I’ll busied myself with other stuff. Stuff which has nothing to do with acads. Yes.. I don’t wanna think of acads. So it’s been my hobby to procrastinate. I know procrastinating is no good.. but so does acads. I don’t like what I’m doing, I don’t want what I’m doing.
Maybe you can’t understand me. Maybe nobody does.. It’s just that… studying is out of my vocabulary. Studying is good. But it’s not when I don’t like what I’m studying. Okay, it all comes down to this: I don’t want my course, my degree.
Maybe it’s too late. Really late. But even from the start, I never like my course. I accepted the fact that I’m taking this course. And I’ve been taking this for almost three years. I’m close to finishing this degree. But whenever I think of it, whenever I study.. I always find myself shaking my head. This is not what I want. This is just a waste of my time. So I never excel in any of my subject. For three years I am trying to survive.. as well as now.
My goal should be: the highest, the best. But my real goal: passing, satisfactory. I don’t care if I didn’t get the highest grade, my only goal is to pass all of my subjects and graduate on time. “Graduate on time” will be my gift to myself. I mean, it’ll be the greatest gift because it’ll mark as the end of my burden. It’ll mark as the end of my wasted time. It’ll be the mark as the end of someone’s life on my life. It’ll be the beginning of me! It’ll be the start of my own life. It’ll be the very start.. to live my own life.. to do what I wanted to do long ago.. to be free and live as the person I should’ve had.
Today.. I am living their life. I am living what they wanted. But one day. One day I’ll be me. One day I’ll live my life. One day it’ll be what I wanted, not what I’m forced to wanted.
I’m looking forward to that day.. I’ll be waiting for that day!
I HEARD my phone ringing. It was at the side of my laptop. I veered my head. I was about to answer it. Unknown caller.. But upon seeing the number… I knew. I knew it was him. I don’t know his number but seeing the first 2 digits lets me know that it was him.
I let it ring. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Five times before answering it. It will be rude of me if I didn’t answer. It would make me bad if I will not answer it.
So I answer it.
Am I that bad if I don’t feel like talking to him?
Am I that bad if I won’t open up to him?
Am I that bad if I won’t tell stories to him?
Am I that bad if I am not that comfortable talking to him?
Am I that bad if I’m a bit irritated?
Am I that bad?
I feel neither hate nor anger. But I feel something bad.. I don’t know what it is. But is it even my fault?