Scribbled and sprinkled between my lecture notes are:

Poke.

Superpoke.

Super super poke.

Stop being irritating.

Existentialism is a personal choice.

HAHA. I LOVE YOU.

That guy is cute.

Where?

In front of you. Eyes so big also no use.

Oh. But he's so short.

Hello, you think I’m very tall is it.

LOL.

His lecture sucks. A lot of hot air.

I’m falling asleep. What duck suck luck muck mug mug mug.

This semester I:

Did everything like a normal, prim and proper perfect A star student for the first two weeks of school. Actually ate that foreign fashionable thing called Lunch. Even clocked in 6-8 hours of sleep per day. Did not ______ myself. In fact, did not even think of _______.

(Was truly proud I lasted so long before lapsing.)

Spent mornings with my mother, watching her eat breakfast and talk about life.

Spent nights with my dad, watching him eat supper and talk about life.

Wrote. A lot. Honestly believed it was the only thing that kept me alive. Could not (still cannot) stop writing.

Stopped wearing jeans. Wore eyeliner to school every day. Boy pointed this out and concluded I was a lesbian. (What the hell?!)

Boy kept notes for me. Called me five, six times when I didn’t show up for a lesson. Told me his life story. Joked around with me by repeatedly 'stealing' items from me- my phone, my wallet, my file, and made me chase after him for it. Stopped talking to me completely after I got depressed and skipped 4 (perhaps more) classes.

(I am so sorry. Thank you.)

Ended a dear, dear friendship.

Got my heart broken.

Ended an on and off, almost but never relationship.

Stopped picking up phone calls from the pervert.

Distanced myself from _______.

Came to school solely and only for the playwriting gang.

Sat in classrooms full of strangers I didn’t bother to know any better thinking of friends and going out with friends and talking cock and laughing and drinking with friends way into the night.

Got high on sugar.

Got kissed by a girl.

Cried reading Oedipus. Could not stop rolling eyeballs while reading Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus. Fell in love with Chekhov. (Got depressed and wore black after reading 'The Seagull'.) Had an absurd affair with Pinter. Adored Miller. Gave my heart to Beckett. Oh and Kuo Pao Kun.

Hated Wilder. Got a C- for the first time. We're good now, after he said something that amazed me, "Our claim, our hope, our despair are in the mind—not in things, not in 'scenery'".

Got addicted to Friends. And Oprah.

Turned into a Vampire. More Anne Rice style than Stephenie Meyer.

Had 3am runs. Lost weight. Became fit and pale. How interesting is that.

Stood in the middle of the road at 4am trying to calculate exactly what time the next car would drive by.

Ate cornflakes at 5am, trying to get some food in before the birds chirped their despicable morning song.

Spent my days reading poetry instead of studying- Plath, Sexton, Hughes, Frost, Williams and Bishop. Such lovely musical words on the tip of my tongue.

Blogged more than studied. Daydreamed more than studied. Emo-ed to sad songs more than studied.

Took in a great deal of Cake- Queen Ping, Cheek, Temple, Divine Soap, Y Grec.

Laughed at all the things Sulas and Kai said.

Watched my fiancé blush and giggle like a hyena at some waiter at New York, New York. Watched my fiancé get to know boys and grow up more this year.

Had bollywood, burst-into-song crazy moments with Siti, Shu Wen and Syl.

Studied with my sexy cupcake. Best hours of my life.

Had wonderful conversations with Dorisa. Dreamers unite!

Talked about religion and Spanish and lesbianism with qt. Hehe.

Could never get enough of every outing with the Great Escapers.

Listened to the Director talk about his relationship problems.

Got to know the kettle. Secretly laughed at how secretly tired he was every time he walked me home.

Healed a little bit more.

Walked closer with God.

Learned to keep my eyes closed, my heart open.

Accumulated a strange capacity for unlimited acceptance- you may flirt outrageously, fuck, bully, hate, bitch, manipulate, steal, whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. We are all messed up. I will still love you just as you are.

Drowned. Struggled to breathe.

Drowned, in more than my fair share of pure and absolute joy and peace.