Results Time

1. When someone tells you "Results are today" NO they are not. You have no way of guaranteeing that, so shush.


            




2. You unintentionally eavesdrop into conversations when you hear the word 'results' or 'backlogs'. But it's kind of awkward because you ARE eavesdropping.

                                  


3. You keep refreshing the website every five seconds even though you know it just won't happen. Your friends keep telling you to leave it but you're certain it'll come up any second.


                               



4. You keep asking people what the cut off is. 
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5. They will never upload it when we expect them to. They'll just appear out of nowhere and everyone will freak out. 

                   


 6. When the server crashes with too many people using the website.

                             

 7. When you're friend clears all his/her subjects but you flunked. But you still have to be happy for them.



                   


8. When your friend flunks but you did well and you feel bad for them but also happy for yourself.

                                   

9. When that one friend who swore that they'd get a backlog actually clears all the subjects.

                 



10. When someone gets one of the highest scores in class but is still complaining and whining.


                  


11. Trying to act like you haven't seen your scores.

               


12. Juniors who have no idea what's going on and why the seniors are furiously looking for phones with fast internet.

                 


13. Dreading the next couple of days because everyone wants to know everyone else's marks. (Even the people you've never spoke to before.)
                   
                                


14. Seeing the teacher responsible for your low grades.

                   


15. Seeing the really mean teacher responsible for passing you.

              


15. Trying to accept your fate. 

                          




                                               "Ahh. Light. Until next time."
                  

Insanity

Once upon a time was a mad girl who wished she was slightly sane, to meet the society's standards of acceptable insanity. The sanity quiz told her exactly how insane she was, to three decimal places to be precise. It was a terrible one at that, some went insane just from taking it. What a horrid thing. When you are asked about yourself and you're at a loss words because the truth is, you don't know too much about yourself in the first place. So we lie and say we are sure about the fact that we're studying at this brilliant college, doing what we've always wanted to do and just a load of humbug with the excessive use of the pronoun 'we'.
But there's one thing we are most certain of of because this girl could tell you one thing in confidence and that she was exactly 93.43 percent insane. She'll boast that it's one percent less than last year and two less than the year before. There is one little detail she always chooses to leave out though. That she has never actually taken the insanity quiz. She always says the first number that comes to mind and hopes that people forget. Sadly, most people do. People don't care about the why in the way it matters but in the way it doesn't. They care about the number of zeroes written after a small number on a check but not the decimal places of one's insanity. She stood for what she believed in and fell for what was pushed onto her. The weight on her shoulders? She didn't even know it was there.
Every day, she'd wake up and come to terms with her made up number because she fears she might be worse off with the truth.
But one day they grabbed her and sat her down on the sidewalk. They flipped out their super sharp pencils and crisp white papers. They pushed the pencil into her hand and made her scribble her name at the very top and even the date to the left corner, like the teachers did. Not a second to be wasted, they said. So she scrutinized every question and filled out every answer. She darkened those little circles to absolute perfection to make any invigilator proud. Not a second to waste they said, as they grabbed the paper out of her hands and disappeared into the night. But what did the poor little girl do? Well, she dusted herself off and went home.
It wasn't too long before it arrived the mail. She opened it up and stared at the number printed at the center of the paper. The truth was much more than she hoped for. All those made up numbers could not do this one justice. She wept into her hand and the paper lay on the carpet. To two decimal places precisely. It told her she was zero point zero zero percent insane.
But why was she crying?
That's  because being sane is worse than being insane. You have no excuses to do all those ridiculous things.
Well that's all I have to say.
I hope that answers the question about why...
Wait. This is a multiple choice questionnaire?
Darn. Well, they're coming for this paper now. I've got to go.





-V

(Stop. I have no clue. That's all I  have to say at this point. Bye.)

Reaching For The Stars

The bass drops and my fingers flit across the keyboard, typing sentences that barely make sense. Letters to words, words to sentences and here I have a jumble of thoughts that ended up making it onto the screen of your computer. It's a sad little evening in December. My toes curl up against the heater, my legs sprawled across the leather couch. A thousand things to do, ten reasons not to. It's far too easy to give up but all I can do is think about reaching for the stars in the middle of the day. There isn't a single perfect moment to leap into the sky. The stars always there, you just can't see them. So jump, leap, fly. You can't stop right when you want to.  This life is more than just a read-through.
It takes a long, long time to find what we want and I feel crippled by the thought, to get up and run. Looking for a miracle with my eyes closed. Holding onto things that have slipped away far too long ago. I'm done saying I'm done but not doing anything about. Enough.
I'm reaching for the stars in the daylight. Sometimes we forget that the Sun is in fact a star.  

The Quiet Place

"There was this person who attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge and the police were at his house doing whatever their job was. They found a note that said 'I'm going to go to the bridge. If someone smiles at me, I'm not gonna jump.' 
This is so important. You don't know if a stranger you passed by has been suffering from something or might even be going to kill themselves, this can save a life. I don't care if people think I'm crazy, I'm gonna smile at everyone from now on."

 I found this a while back and it really got me thinking. This is a wonderful gesture and I think everyone should do it. Sometimes we're so caught up in what we see that we forget that everyone has a thousand things on their mind.  

It doesn't take much to make someone's day better. Who knows whose life you could be saving?

At first I had a pretty ignorant thought. I thought, look at all the people around me. It's not as if any of them are suicidal, they're all pretty well off.
But how would I know that? 

I don't.

No one deserves to feel like that. If we can do something to help, why shouldn't we?

I've met too many people through the internet who self harm to relieve their pain. They are all such wonderful, talented individuals who believe it's the only way to get through the hard times. It's all so sad and I wish everyone could be happy. 

A couple weeks ago I signed up for a website called The Quiet Place Project.  

People from around the world are on here and  it's all anonymous. They vent their feelings and thoughts to receive a little bit of love or because they feel like they don't have anyone to talk to.

I log in once in a while and try to advise them to the best of my ability.

It's quite refreshing and it's nice to get some help. 

Whoever is reading this, please take a minute to reply to one of the messages in the website. Give them some comfort and please remember, what goes around comes around.

-V

Time Traveller

A couple years ago, when I first moved to this country, I was a little jet lagged. I'm not the type of person to fall sleep anytime during the day unless I'm very tired. (Even if I do sleep, I wake up very cranky)

So this particular day I slept sometime in the afternoon and woke up in my room with all the lights off. I could hear my family in the living room. Then I check the wall clock to see how long I've slept.
According to the clock, I'd woken up the previous day. I slept in the afternoon and woke up a couple hours before! First thoughts were that it was a faulty device so I opened the laptop. It had the same time. So I'd somehow gone back in time and woken up the previous day.
Already being so groggy, I was very confused and kind of excited.
I contemplated about what I should do with this knowledge. Pretty soon I came out and asked how long I'd been asleep. My Dad said that it'd been a couple of hours.

Figures that both the wall clock and laptop had been set to the wrong date and time.

That's as close as I've ever got time travelling, well that and travelling through a timezone.(You know, airplanes)

Bow Your Head

I'll be walking in a crowd with my head bent for no sensible reason. Head held high when I'm all alone.
A fascination with the cold hard floor when I'm just too afraid to look at a face for a second too long. Too caught up in what everyone else thinks.
They can see right through me and my poorly built walls. With every glance I feel like I'm disintegrating. But that sounds like such a foolish thing to say because no one really cares. They won't even remember me the next minute, so why am I still thinking about it?
I'm still here aren't I? Why's everything an internal conflict with me?
I can't stop whining about my materialistic problems and running my mouth off to people who honestly couldn't care.
I'll take a moment to look at all of my 'serious' problems and exactly how irreparable they are.

Well, I have no excuses. I know almost all the solutions and I shouldn't be worrying about the rest because it's not the right time yet.
So what's holding me back? What 's forcing me to bow my head down like I have something to be ashamed of?

I'm not sure.
No.
That's a lie.
I know why.

It's because I know I'm not doing anything about my problems and it's humiliating. Even if they don't know, even if they never will. 

Weathered Pages

But it's so hard to explain how much these musty old pages mean to me. For the hands that held the book I now hold so tenderly belonged to those who have lived and died long before my time. You may think it's droll to hold onto these weathered books but there's a bit more that you do not know. For the impressions they have left across the pages hold untold stories that I wish I could hear. But I wonder if they would have been able to comprehend how such imperceptible marks could mean so much to me if someone had told them, so long ago. Would they have laughed at the absurd truth or worried about a time when they would cease to exist? These are the people I never had the honor of meeting for I have to settle for tracing the remnants of their legacy. They have walked this earth long before I, but what I share with them has now exceeded blood. I take the time to read the words, cherishing this connection I hold onto by a thread. For what I have is indescribable as I do not yet posses the ability to put these feelings into words. I hope for a day that my descendants may read these beautiful expressions and hold onto me as I hold onto them.