... which didn't turn out as badly as I'd anticipated.
There's something to be said for long bus rides in the dark dusk lit only by the orange lamp posts casting their orange lights onto the black asphalt onto the concrete half-tunnel structure along the highway. Faces and trees whizz past and. since I am travelling at the speed of the bus, all I see is a sudden stillness of every scene before it fades out of the pheriphery of my eyeballs; as though it's chronologically arranged stills I see moving at fastforward speed and not the movie itself playing at real time. Thoughts come quickly then, and I entertain grand dramas wherein I am the author of a critically acclaimed commentary on Singapore politics.
oh, but I left that part of me back when I finished the A levels
so exhausted so beaten I swore never to
punish myself again
to push myself to the extent that I'd
remove my bed from my room in an attempt to stop myself from sleeping at all.
So maybe I won't be an author of a critically acclaimed commentary on Singapore politics after all.
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