Going back to a life of peace, tranquility and books.

I'm going back soon. In 6 hours, my life would go back to what it has been for the past 5 months. Endless reading and re-reading of books. Constant revision of past year papers. My world has been revolving around nothing but the thought of passing AS. I don't even know the results yet, but soon the whole lot of us would be studying A2 already.

Endless grind of books. Somehow it takes things off my mind. Even though it is tough, life is simpler when you have nothing to do save for revising lessons and reading. There's no classroom politics, no backstabbing, no emotional friendship drama, no stupid puppy love scenarios, no regrets.

I managed to spend time with old friends during the 1-measly-week-holiday. If you call that a holiday. It didn't feel like it, for all I know. There's just this unexplained weariness and grief, bordering on dread. It has been growing on my mind ever since the holiday started, sort of like how weeds grow unchecked in a beautiful flower garden. The thoughts clouded my mind and rendered me exhausted. Yet exhausted of what, I know not. It feels like I'm weary of everything. Exhausted, in essence and in soul.

Words can't describe what I intend to express. It would be two months before I come back again. Sigh.

Lyrical emotions.

Feelings that feel almost lyrical in nature, as memories stir themselves up from the deep slumber in the catacombs of my endless void. As I sit listening to The Fray and typing away, I cannot help but feel nostalgic. Suddenly there is this gush of sheer sadness, borne out of nothing and without reason. I cannot find the answer to it.

Why such reckless sadness? Perhaps I should not listen to such music so often.

Speaking of which, these few days I've been busy bringing three of my friends from KTT for a short trip around Kuching. We arrived here at around 6 p.m. Then we went to walk around the Golden Triangle area near Riverfront. Yesterday morning we went to the cultural village near Damai beach. It was quite worth it, entrance fee being RM15 and all. We went to Jalan Song at night. This morning was spent visiting the Sarawak Museum and the handicraft shops fronting the river (forgot what's the road's name). Then, sent them off at airport. All was well. I think our friendship was strengthened somewhat, feeling that I know them better now.. It was a good experience. Priceless memories too..

I guess I just suddenly realised how fragile friendship is. Though one might nurture it like a young sapling and it might have endured countless storms, chances are that one day, out of neglect, the young tree shall wither. Then imagine the agony that would arise - its magnitude would be beyond words. Then there's the inevitable situation where friendships become mere passing acknowledgement of each others' existence, just because of distance. On the other hand, there is also the inevitable withering of many friendships when my A level course finishes. Hard and ugly truth is, we will not be sent to the same university. God knows what would happen then. Start life anew? Life goes on? That would pretty much be what I would say were not for my coming of age into a whole new future.

I have learnt that friendships aren't something you take for granted and can just ignore. Over the past 5 months I have learned that some things in life may appear less than their worth. So one moment you might be laughing along with them, sharing their joys and all, then suddenly the next moment you are all alone, thinking: what happens when we part? When we pour out the effort to nurture something from scratch, a part of us hopes it would grow into something meaningful and could be part of our lives. Yet when the circumstances do not allow it, it could be reduced to ashes.

Call me emotional and too romantic (not the lovey dovey sense) for my own good, but seriously, if one is human enough, such questions inevitably arise. Gone are the days when I would think that I can survive on my own, that life goes on. I would pull a mask of defiance over my real face, and over the years I have perfected the art of not caring and in the process became immune to such petty issues. Living in KTT changed the way I perceive life. There's more to life than withdrawing into your own coccoon and not caring. For all of us are humans. In the end we tend to stick together to others, we tend to share joy and pain and we tend to huddle together in the dark. We tend to look for some sign of reassurance when we are confused while treading on the path towards the unknown. Knowing full well that studying medicine would pretty much rip apart our social lives in the future, we look at each other and ask: " Is this worth it? Why are we even here?"

Even though the answer eludes most of us, we know that we are not alone in thinking about that. That is how my deeper understanding of life came about - from the most basic of human interaction that fills our daily lives, our understanding of friendship gradually shapes itself into something substantial that can be grasped.

Friends are those who are equally confused as you are as you walk along the path of life. Friends are the people, whom you know for only months, celebrate your birthday with grandeur and go to the extent of springing a trap, preparing and pouring smelly gooey stuff on you just to celebrate your coming of age, of finally becoming 18. Friends are people who walk alongside you, who, in their togetherness of one ultimate aim, become comrade-in-arms with you. Inevitably they would part to carry on their own seperate paths.

As I waved goodbye to my friends when I sent them off at the airport, I suddenly felt heavy blows of anguish, pain beyond words. Be it imagination (I really hope it is) or some premonition of things yet to come, I realised that would be how it would feel like when the day arrives.

***

That is exactly why such sadness evolved from the mere thought of parting, because, in essence, I am a human again. And being human subjects me to sorrow.

I'm back.. finally.

The feelings can't be described by words. Its just.. amazing. Two words sum it up:

I'm home.

Too dazed to blog, will update soon.

And he can't hold off the temptation..

Temptation to blog, I might add. It has been almost one month since the last post (which drew quite a bit of, well, attention to my 'standard of English' ) and I intended to starve myself of Internet for a month, effectively trying to do an Internet fasting period. Lord knows how I suffered. Yet, life hasn't been all dreadful to me here. The longer one stays here in this isolated college, the more life's simple things seem more obvious.

Being the romanticist I am, sometimes things that were taken for granted can jump out at you and make you breathless. Even more so when one has been living for nothing but studies and the ultimate aim of just surviving it all. Speaking of surviving, the Advanced Subsidiary examination was.. daunting? Too early to say still, since we have only covered 5 papers, with 4 more to go. The last two papers for me were disastrous. Sickening and not at all up to par. Makes me cringe everytime I think of the stupid mistakes I made. Bleargh.

I can't wait to go back to Kuching. Speaking of which, some of my friends are going over for a little trip to see Kuching for the first time. Estella and I shall be their tour guides of sorts.

I miss Sarawak laksa so damn much.

I miss my friends at Kuching too. The crazy dudes and dudettes. The good old days. Alas, some things are not meant to last. Memories that linger between the undefined boundary of oblivion and eternity float like a petty wooden boat in the middle of a raging sea. Raging sea of clashing emotions and regrets.

4 more papers to go. I will get through this.



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He panted and tried to catch his breath. His heart beat like a violent war drum, unceasing and ever forceful. His vision was clearer. Everything appeared to move slower and even Time itself seemed to lag. The adrenaline rush had been a boon. Had it been otherwise, he might have been slain, just like that, in the midst of the Plains of Norgrod.

They had been ambushed by a marauding platoon of Krugs. Those vile creatures - warlike, barbaric and vicious, living a life of savagery, sworn enemies of the Empire. Nobody knows where they came from. The mystics at the arcane sanctum of Arnorminas knew enough that they had a primal instinct for dominance and went to war under the guidance of a shadowy patriarchal figure. The people knew enough that when they came, they left only a trail of destruction behind. The soldiers knew enough that in battle, they have to rely on their wits and muster every ounce of courage and strength to survive. For these Krugs are born warriors, their eyes shone with bloodlust, their armours thick, shields broad and axes deadly.

It was a fact he had to learn the hard way. The lesson was reinforced and hammered into his head once again when he looked down. Only then did he realise the agonising pain in his upper arm. Had it not been for the rerebrace and pauldron, his whole left arm would have been sliced clean off his shoulder joint. His right thigh bled from an arrow that managed to punch a hole right through the coat of chainmail. He groaned, reached down and pulled it out. This one wasn't poisoned, he thought as he examined it. Not many in the army had his good luck then.

The rest were treading carefully around the bodies and discarded weapons. None had fallen. Good. They were not supposed to fall like toy soldiers that easily. It was what the training was for. Some recovered useful materials. The others piled the dead Krugs into a heap.

"Burn everything, do not leave anything behind. These Krugs are resourceful." he ordered the men. "We shall move out by nightfall. Those of you who are wounded, patch yourselves up and rest lightly. We have to move quickly. The fire would draw the rest from the mountains, if indeed they are intending to push southwest into the outlying villages. We do not want our heads rolling on the fields now, do we?" That drew some laughters from the men. Spirits were high, their morale undented.

That night, under the rare soft beam of the full moon, they marched on ahead, leaving behind a burnt, smoking pile. They held their heads high, fearless, even as the distant sound of the dreaded wardrums closed in behind them.