One Week

I was reminded that I leave Subang in a little over a week. Wow. I was having dinner at Lunchbox the other night before Physics P5 and they were already playing Christmas songs and it just hit me that Christmas means the end of a year and it means the end of this year and that means A Levels is coming to an end. A2 is almost ending; I only have a last paper left next week before I leave Sunway for good. It’s weird. It didn’t seem so long ago that I posted that blogpost about A2 starting, and now it’s already ending. So weird.

I was clearing up all my papers to give them away/sell them/recycle them when I stumbled upon Sunway brochures and black and white documents that were used when I applied for A Levels here. It’s funny because looking back at all of them, I can still remember all the hopes and dreams I had when I first entered college. That was melodramatic. But I was very ambitious, even circling all the clubs I wanted to join (there were four) and indulging in the Complete College Experience™. I suppose, in a way, I got what I wanted, but it was nothing like the stereotypical and clichéd expectations I’d had before coming here. It was neither better or worse, but it was real and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

With a deadline looming over my head, right now, I just want to make the best of the time I have left here and spend as much time as I can with my friends. I’ve built a home here, both in the literal and metaphorical senses, because home is where you feel safe and comfortable so that also means part of my home was built in the presence of the great friends I’ve made here. The last chapter of this 1.5 years story is ending soon, and I want to write the best epilogue there is to it.

One Week

Pretty Little Liars Season 4 Finale

I don’t normally do write-ups like this but I watched the season 4 finale the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about how incredulous the entire franchise plot had become. I even have a voice memo on my phone in which I sort of rage burst about the millions of loopholes in the show that no one bothered to even cover up in the end. I feel like at this point the producers are just trying to pull whatever meagre plot strings they can find and hastily throw it into the plot cauldron, hoping that it would turn out fine and make sense, at the very least.

But no. It was such sloppy work. Among the trashiest shows in the history of tv shows, PLL ranks pretty high on that list (along with the likes of Teen Wolf and Faking It) – but just like the aforementioned two MTV shows, I just cannot stop watching them. I wish I could say they were so terrible that I couldn’t even continue watching them, but in reality it’s the exact opposite. The more I curse and rage scream at the stupidity of the characters, the more I want to find out what they do and how they end up. I think this speaks volumes about my own level of trashiness too I guess

The last time I finished season 3 was last year even before I came to college, so enough time had lapsed that I was at first quite bored in the first few episodes of season 4. The thing about drama shows like this is that there is quite literally zero sense of continuity. You can pretty much discern very clearly when one plot finishes and another one begins, because you will notice that no one else ever brings up the finished plot later on in the series, even if it’s something as huge and significant as Hanna’s mum being arrested. It’s a really huge pet peeve especially after watching shows like Parks and Recreation in which you can see very clearly character progress and development from past events and how they shape and mould them as the shows progresses. In season 3, it’s still hard to believe how quickly Spencer just snaps back into normalcy after leaving Radley – still not worse than the ???s that surfaced when Malia just randomly checked in and then out of asylum in Teen Wolf, it was like she was just THERE for the sake of wanting her to be included in Stiles’ plot but let’s not go there – and it was no longer brought up again, not as a significant plot nugget anyway.

My biggest problem with season 4, however, is the entire “Shit! Ezra is A! Oh, wait! He’s not! All of this makes sense! Thanks!” execution. So first, we find Spencer, Emily, Hanna and Aria in Ravenswood apparently trying to…do what exactly? They found a flyer advertising about a magic show and somehow connected it to a magic trick bladesaw that A sent them as a parcel in the mail. “A sent us this box which if you turn a knob a certain way, a saw will fall out but if you don’t do it correctly it won’t fall out it’s ~magic~ so that means A wants us to go to a magic show” and in Ravenswood. Of all places. Okay, fine. They go to Ravenswood, and Emily almost gets killed, presumably a stunt pulled by A. At the same place, they find Cece, whom – what exactly does she even do again? They discover that there are actually two Red Coats – Cece and actual Alison DiLaurentis who, surprise surprise, isn’t dead! I mean, they don’t know that for sure yet but at least that’s what Spencer pieces together. And apparently Alison led them to A’s lair in Ravenswood, where they find multiple computers linked to CCTVs EVERYWHERE in Rosewood as well as a lot of flow charts with photos and names of a lot of people and basically just what you would probably expect to find in a serial killer’s basement. And then you think – shit. This is really A’s lair. Who else would do this sort of sickening thing besides this A person who’s been obsessively stalking these four girls for four seasons already oh my god get a life already.

And Cece’s character is so WEAK, I swear she only exists as a name for people to throw around when nothing makes sense to them. Cece’s name was certainly mentioned A LOT for someone who only made a cameo for 5 minutes for the entire season. “Cece Drake is behind this this and this!” they all exclaim for everything that happens, but then it turns out she wasn’t even in Rosewood the entire time. She didn’t even do ANYTHING God who even is she

But that’s not even the most important thing of that episode. The most important thing is at the very end before the end credits, they show you a person dressed in black from head to toe – typical A clothing gear – walking into the lair, realising that it had been invaded by the very people he had been stalking all along. But this time, this time they pan the camera around and YOU FINALLY SEE THE FACE OF A. IT’S EZRA FITZ. HOLY SWEET JESUS. The “I read Shakespeare so I’m an intellectual, y’all” English teacher that Aria had a more-than-brief secret love affair with. How could he ever be A?!

That’s right. How could employee-with-a-steady-income, vest-wearing, impossibly-neutrally-nice Ezra Fitz who recently only finds out he has a son be A?! You can’t brain this. Neither can I. A once blackmailed Aria with information about this affair at the very start of the show, how could he have sent a text to Aria’s phone while being in the same room at the same time. Guys. What is this. Of course, and then you remember that there was once a theory in season 2 or 3 honestly you can’t remember anymore which was that A might be a group of people but it might also have been dismissed in season 2 or 3 again after Melissa Hastings did something I think. Speaking of which, there was like two or three episodes in S4 that roped Melissa back in for the mask thing and then kicked her out immediately after Melissa told Spencer a bunch of useless stuff that apparently justified her making a mask of her own face? Actually, the entire mask ordeal is so pointless and messy and frankly, very disturbing. Yet again, no continuity?! To this day, we don’t even really know what the masks are for?!

Okay, so once it was made known that YOU, as the audience, know that Ezra is A, they start to make Ezra’s actions seem suddenly very suspicious. His glare longer with more suspenseful music in the background, and he’s suddenly lurking and stalking the girls in school?! Like, does no one really notices that? All past three seasons prior to the “giant reveal of Ezra as A” left absolutely NO INDICATIONS at all that Ezra had even a remote chance of being A, but as soon as YOU know Ezra is A, his actions immediately escalate to become alarmingly suspicious? It is literally a gradient zero graph. A steep step from bottom to the top. And then you spend the next few episodes groaning in frustration, wanting ANYONE AT ALL to just figure out that this man! This sickening, disturbing man is A! He is the cause of all your problems! About 2 episodes later, Spencer is the one to find out, and frankly, she really had very little to work with to pin it on Ezra, but you don’t care! You’re just really glad that finally! Someone can expose this paedophilic bastard!

And then you cheer Aria on when she finds all of Ezra’s stalker A stuff about her and her friends and Alison and literally everyone else in Rosewood and then Ezra suddenly appears and hunts after Aria and Aria heads for the ski lift (honest to God Aria what the everliving heck were you thinking) and SUDDENLY EZRA IS BESIDE HER AND SHE CAN’T ESCAPE OH GOD


Get this, THIS is Ezra’s story to all the creepy stalker stuff he keeps about all of them: Ezra is writing a book! He’s writing a book about Alison and Aria and Hanna and Spencer and Emily! He knew Alison first before he even came to Rosewood! He knew Aria before he even saw her! He showed interest in Aria because he wanted to “get to know” his characters even more in depth to write a story about them! This isn’t disturbing on a psychological level at all!

You know, they say all artists and writers are, to some extent, insane, but I wouldn’t count on that extent to be on the level of fixing-hidden-cameras-everywhere-to-follow-your-subjects’-every-move. Tell me that’s not downright sickening. Actually, tell me that’s not a federal offense, because I’m pretty sure you could go to jail for that. And why isn’t he put away?! Like, okay, fine, even if he isn’t A, it still doesn’t excuse what he did?! Which is keep tabs on four high schoolers (and more) 24/7, take photos of them without their knowledge, hide surveillance cameras to record their daily actions and interactions. He’s an English teacher! Doesn’t he have test papers to mark? Notes to make? References to write? Actually these questions are rather on the same level of “Don’t these girls have homework to do? Tests to take? College essays to write?” so never mind. But, really, I’m pretty sure you can write a book about people without becoming a downright criminal. And if you can’t, then maybe you really shouldn’t even write a book at all.

And then there’s the thing about Ezra knowing about A. I couldn’t really accept Ezra NOT being A at first, so I honestly didn’t entertain any possibilities at all that he isn’t A, but when the show decided to progress in that direction of Ezra not being A (which is still absolutely absurd but I guess I would have to accept because of what happens in the finale later), you have to start thinking: so Ezra isn’t A, but he KNOWS about A. Which honestly doesn’t make him any of a better person tbh!!! If he knows about A ALL ALONG – in fact, probably longer than any of them because Ezra knew Alison before he knew them – then what has he even done to help them stop A? Or warn them about A? If he’s been keeping such close tabs on all of them, there is NO WAY he can’t have seen A leaving notes in their lockers??? Delivering parcels to their doorsteps??? Ezra??? Please??? You could have actually been a great deal of help with all your creepy CCTVs – you literally had one job! But??? No??? Seriously??? WHAT EVEN IS THIS SHOW

Finally, we are graced with the finale. In the finale, we finally get to meet Alison. That’s right, folks. She’s not dead. She’s been pretending to dead for two years. What has she been doing for the past two years? Studying for her SATs, I hope. And she finally tells us the whole story, which turns out to be not whole at all. Thanks, Alison, but you have been zero help. She tells the girls that on the night she went missing, she’d been trying to figure out who A was by blackmailing pretty much everyone she knows. At the end of the day, she was no closer to finding out who it was, but was instead hit on the head by a rock, and buried alive by her mother. Okay. Well. I mean. Ali’s mum. She knows that, uh, you should probably, uh, check your own daughter’s breathing first before diagnosing her as dead and burying her in your own backyard right? Right? Isn’t this basic human anatomy knowledge? Don’t Americans know this?

And then Ali’s creepy psychic 100-year-old friend “sees” Ali being buried alive and drives all the way from Ravenswood to Ali’s house JUST IN TIME to see Ali reach her hand out of the soil. Okay. Let’s see: 1) in one of the episodes, we see that Caleb had to take an hour-long bus ride to Ravenswood from Rosewood. So either psychic friend also has the supernatural ability to drive really fast without getting a speeding ticket, or she could “see” it happening to Ali hours before it did; in which case, couldn’t she have just called Ali and asked her to stay at home that night? 2) Ali was unconscious when she was buried alive; I’m pretty sure you lose A LOT of oxygen even if you were buried alive for seconds – and she was unconscious. How did she even get the energy to reach through the soil and unearth her hand? It’s not like she was buried underneath foam bubbles y’know!

So anyway, she managed to escape wow amazing and Mona ends up taking care of her. Right. Mona. Another character for the producers to conjure ONLY when two plots don’t seem to fit together. “Oh, it’s fine, Jerry (generic white man name), they don’t make sense now but let’s just throw Mona in! She’ll make everything make sense! Totally!” From being A to being A’s henchman (who knows NOTHING about A okay that’s v convincing thank) to being on the girls’ side to DISAPPEARING FROM THE SHOW COMPLETELY to helping out Ezra write his book??? This girl no hobby one is it??? Actually, does any of the characters have hobbies??? I feel like everyone on this show really needs to take a step back and just chill. They all need to take a day off and DO NOTHING. Please. I worry for y’all.

Halfway through Ali’s storytelling, a hooded figure shows up and tries to shoot, well, all of them I guess? So all five of them run…to the rooftop. Excellent idea. They get cornered, and out of nowhere, a door bursts open melodramatically, only showing you the shadow of someone wearing a cap – so you think: A. And then Aria suddenly steps forward and says, “Ezra?” and you’re like whAt tHe HeLl and it IS Ezra and another door opens and it’s the hooded figure so it’s true! Ezra is not A! Ezra then tries to protect the girls while screaming “I KNOW WHO U R PLZ DONT DO DIS” but he gets shot and A gets away and Aria and Ali are screaming Ezra’s name but no one had the sense to ask him who A is guys!!!! This is super v v v v important!!! He got shot in the stomach I watched enough movies to know that he’ll live!!!! Scott’s dad in Teen Wolf survived a sword to his gut for HOURS without batting an eyelid, he’ll be fine!!!!

Sigh. At this point, they can literally pull out the most convincing A and still be able to deny it with a pathetic excuse like maybe he’s developing a game and he’s testing out the possibility of the player winning by actually executing them in real life and everyone will be all “Phew at least he’s not A” BUT GUYS HE IS AS DANGEROUS AS A DON’T YOU GUYS LOVE YOURSELVES

I can’t believe I just spent two hours writing this

Pretty Little Liars Season 4 Finale


Of late, I’ve been slowly trying to nurture myself to be comfortable with being alone by myself without feeling anxious. My fear of being alone stems from previous panic attacks that had occurred when I was alone, particularly that one time when I started panicking on the canopy walk. There was no one I knew around and I kept on looking at the faces of strangers around me, students like me walking from Monash to Sunway or from Sunway to Monash, books in hand, bags on shoulders, some with earphones in and some without; and I noticed every single detail with my heightened senses, and all I could do was bear holes into other people’s skulls with my stares, silently begging someone to save me from this thing happening to me because I was already too scared to save myself. Since then, I was terrified of going anywhere/doing anything alone because I was afraid in the event of another attack, I wouldn’t be capable of calming myself down. This led to the vicious cycle of “fear of anxiety itself” (as was mentioned in one of Hank Green’s CrashCourse videos which offers very interesting explanations about the whole deal about anxiety), wherein the fear of having a panic attack actually induces a panic attack. Very ironic, I know, but it put me through hell because there was a period of time when even going downstairs to do laundry by myself made me so nervous that I quite literally ran to the laundrette, threw my laundry into the washing machine, and then ran back to the lifts to return to the comforts of my room.

I found out later on that panic attacks weren’t as uncommon as I thought they were, but people never really talked much about it because episodes of panic attacks were solitary for some people. For me, it became a force of habit to avoid anything that might be anxiety-inducing, even if it meant taking a taxi from Sunway Pyramid back to my residence just so I can avoid walking back to my residence alone through the canopy walk. I was still going to be alone, but avoiding the canopy walk made me feel safer (although honestly, I’ve got a pretty twisted opinion of what is and isn’t safe, haven’t I; the irony of it!). Hank also mentioned about this in the video above, calling it avoidance behaviour, where one avoids doing something in fear that doing it might cause anxiety. At that moment, the avoidance might cause some sense of relief, but in the long run, it solidifies the fear of the action, making it more and more difficult to actually do the thing due to the build-up of fear of fear of doing the thing! It’s all just a goddamn cycle! And an exhausting one at that.

Anyway, anxiety 101 aside, tying back to the title and first sentence above, which is that I’ve been going to the Monash library to study alone for a few days now, despite how nervous it first made me feel. I started out in the most secluded corner on the first floor, where I can trick myself into thinking there was no one around and lessen the burden of stress that stares from other people might cause. I sweated a lot and had to take several distraction breaks (in the form of Youtube videos) before I can return to focusing on my revision.

Progressively, I ventured out of the corner and gradually felt more and more comfortable out in the open. And then I started staying back later, walking to Lunchbox to get dinner and then walk back to the library after that. I’m aware how much of a small feat this is going to sound to, well, everyone, but knowing that I did what I wouldn’t have been able to do last week gave me some sort of sense of power and control over my life, as opposed to previously when I relied on the abilities of others to get my shit together.

I made my avoidance behaviour number one on my hitlist, which was why I felt good and sure enough to take the canopy walk alone this afternoon. It wasn’t my first time alone on the canopy walk since that incident, but it was the first time I felt like I wanted to do it. And when I managed to do it I couldn’t help laughing, out of relief more than humour.

That’s not to say I don’t still feel like running away every now and then, but feeling capable of depending on myself and being comfortable about it (and actually growing to like it) has made this week rather alright, despite my initial fear of another episode of spiralling into isolation gloom. It’s always that universal favourite saying of “being alone vs being lonely” and I think I’m gradually coming to understand that.

This week was an unintended milestone and I hope it grows better from here because slinking back into my previous habits sounds very tempting pretty much all the time. But if I can slay this demon then maybe I can slay all the other demons right up to the boss level. Sorry. 1:25AM. Only analogy I can think of.


it’s a place i’d like to be

Processed with VSCOcam with m3 preset

I used to make notes on my phone about stuff I want to blog about, and when I went through them just a moment ago, there was only one item on that list last updated on 23rd March 2014: “hashtagging is an art”. Don’t know. Don’t ask. (Although, when I was trying to come up with a hashtag for the Sunway Canon Photography Workshops, I stumbled upon this site which is interesting and also funny.)

I think I first truly realised humans are not immortal when I was 8 and I came home from church crying because I’d learned from Sunday school that Jesus resurrected from the dead and why would I be so upset if I didn’t think dead humans were supposed to, well, stay dead right? Since then, the idea of death has always been absolutely terrifying to me, but of course, it is a universal fear. Where do we go from there? Is it a painful process? But most importantly, why can’t I just stay with my family and friends forever? Why do I have to leave and why do they have to leave?

With the recognisation of the permanence of being absent from a world we once knew and lived in, there arises a a fervent need for many to, colloquially coined, “leave a mark” in this world, to be immortalized in things that last forever, because we don’t. Literature, music, film, politics, literally everything that will last for the next century or so. But all of that doesn’t matter either if no one remembers them; essentially we want to leave a mark in people’s memories, and hopefully we will still be talked about by these people for the great things we contributed to this wretched world. Like many things that we attribute to human nature (greed, self-preservation), wanting to be remembered for our accolades is one of them. Of course, I can’t know for sure without actually finding out if other people share the same opinion as I do, but so far, I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t want to be remembered for the great things they did.

Last week, in a moment of adrenaline rush, I asked my housemates if they wanted to go to the topmost floor of SMR – level 22 – with me to check out if there really was a garden up there or if it was just a rumour. But when I stepped out of the lift, and looked down the balcony while a strong gale blew at us, I immediately regretted everything. I couldn’t even move beyond the lift area without starting to get traces of hyperventilation. In contrast, my housemates seemed like they were on a vacation, and thankfully, with their help, I got across to the next lift area and immediately pressed the down button regardless of whether my housemates were going to follow or not. Despite the assured stability of the building, it felt like the ground itself was convoluted. In that moment of severe leverage, I felt trapped. And fragile. And so, so small. Everything was so precarious, like standing on the sharp pointy end of a pinnacle, about to fall off at any moment if I made a wrong footing, or sneezed a little too forcefully.

How dare I, as a single entity among a seven-billion-figure population, have the audacity to think that whatever I do in life matters to the world? It is, indeed, such a selfish belief.

There are new achievements being rhapsodized about everyday, new records being broken, new discoveries being made; and we hear them widespread through the media. Such big and impactful miracles! The world is a-changing! Events that will be recorded in history textbooks and studied as a compulsory national syllabus by tired sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds in 10 years time. These are the miracles that everyone remembers, including you and I.

But there are also smaller but no less important miracles at work everyday in our daily lives. Parents whom you can call at 2AM to talk about your fears and have them eradicated, friends whom you go on spontaneous road trips with, teachers who don’t technically owe you anything yet do so much for you even though you are just a student among the masses, and even strangers who hold open doors for you or the friendly security guard at the guardhouse who always smiles at you whenever you pass by. No journalist reports these in The Guardian, nor do news anchors on BBC, but these are the immediate things you think of when your life flashes before your eyes. Not the first line in Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, nor even Usain Bolt running 100m in 9.58 seconds. You think about the last time you had coffee (or tea because you don’t drink coffee) with your friends at a dimly lit cafe as it was pouring rain outside, and you think about taking care of your pet puppy with your parents two years ago when it had parvovirus for a week.

And if you are thought about, my friend, you have already left a larger mark than you realise. Because the worst thing isn’t being hated, it’s being forgotten by the people you love.

it’s a place i’d like to be


It was raining. I was still having writer’s block and none of the writing prompts I googled were helping. So I took my keys and went around SMR* obscurely trying to take photos of the place without getting incredulous stares from other residents or the guards.

IMG_1579 IMG_1580 IMG_1582Entrance to SMR from Monash. Also, Starbucks.
IMG_1581 Block B is where all the single suite rooms are.IMG_1575 IMG_1578 IMG_1577 IMG_1574 Gym and pool. The very same pool I jumped into a day before results day.IMG_1573 Laundry place aka pretty stressful place.IMG_1572 Hidden area behind laundry place aka pretty relaxing place where I occasionally go to hang out by myself while blasting music from my phone.IMG_1586 Park at Level 2.IMG_1583 Block A where all the less fancy units are (but they have vending machines so I guess that’s kinda nice)IMG_1584 IMG_1571 IMG_1570 IMG_1585Where I’ve called home for the past one and a half years. I’m actually gonna miss this place.

*SMR, also known as Sunway Monash Residence. 5 minutes from Monash University, 15 minutes from Sunway University College, 30 minutes from Sunway Pyramid. Why am I writing an ad for them


Here we go again

A2 starts tomorrow.

Very rarely do I get writer’s block because most of my thoughts flow better when I write but this is one of those instances when I can’t seem to join my sentences together coherently enough to form a complete statement. Even writing about having writer’s block feels very “keh“, as you would say in Hokkien, like desperately trying to squeeze toothpaste out of a toothpaste tube that’s almost empty (although, life hack, if you ever do face a dilemma like that, cut the tube in half and scrape off what’s left of the toothpaste off the walls. Much like scraping the bottom of an empty barrel to salvage what’s left of your dignity as you fruitlessly pray that the toothpaste scraps are enough to last you until your next allowance rolls around). (I’m kidding, things are not that bad but the broke college kid stereotype is very fun to role play as.)

It’s also very ironic because I recently tweeted that I’ve been wanting to write for days now but hadn’t had the energy or time to do so and now, when I finally sit myself down after finishing M1 past years to login to WordPress and properly write, I can’t get my juices going. But I’ll try. I’ll try scraping the “seh sien” walls of my mind.

My UCAS application was finally sent in on Tuesday, after about two weeks of being referred and reviewed by Miss MC, Miss Carol from the A Levels department and MABECS. My email inbox has felt like a ticking timebomb since then. I feel so minute in the whole swarm of applications – I was even given several student numbers by different universities. Student number 15012542. Applying for universities is kinda like being in prison, you’re eventually reduced to the identity of numbers. Being given a student ID number also provides the illusion of already being accepted by a uni; “Hey there! You applied to UCL. Thank you for applying to UCL. We’ll give you a student ID number to make you feel all important and stuff but this doesn’t mean you are a UCL student okay”

I look like this now after having unintentionally cut off about an inch of my fringe on one side and deciding doing the same on the other side didn’t sound too bad, either.

I’ve been feeling a whole lot better about leaving since my last post, although the few days following that post on Saturday saw me experiencing “withdrawals” alone in my room in SMR. And by “withdrawals” I mean marathon watching Parks and Recreation when I couldn’t physically math anymore. Being immersed in a TV show helped to bring me out of that dazed stupor where wave after wave of emotions came crashing onto my shore of consciousness. But last night, the beginning of A2 more or less reminded me of how little time I have left and the feeling of urgency is starting to slowly seep in (although it might also be mistaken for exam revision urgency…or both).

But even I, pessimist that I am, have to admit that everything is going pretty great right now. Of course, once things start to sail relatively smoothly, I start to anticipate the next storm and waver at the edge. But this time, I’m just trying to make the most and best out of everything, and I must say, it sure beats cowering under the imaginary pummelling fist expected to deliver blow after blow at what’s left of my life shreds.

That’s three sentences that start with “but” in a row. Ancient deceased English grammar teachers are rolling in their graves right now, I bet.

Here we go again

Last Day of College

Sunway A Levels July 2013 intake Group 3; so much love for this group of people
Sunway A Levels July 2013 intake Group 3; so much love for this group of people

I tried to put off writing this as long as I could by not getting out of bed, procrastinating by looking at old photos again…and right now I have a permanent nausea that’s probably caused by the flooding of gastric juices in my gut due to a lot of thinking when I barely slept last night.

Last day of college.

There was an agreement prior to Friday to dress up as formally as we could, kind of like the first formal Friday we did in sem 1 a year ago. I decided this was the best time (and the last time) to wear lipstick and eyeliner to college after 1+ semester of not doing so.

First class was Econs, and Miss Cherilyn brought a whole box of sandwiches to class so all of us had sandwiches as breakfast in class. No lessons were conducted because after that, we had a photo session with Miss Cherilyn. We also had a group photo at the stairs at the foyer like we did in sem 1, same positions and all. Maths class that followed started with Mr Lee covering the vectors topic a little bit and making a brief farewell speech before another round of photo session commenced. This time, it continued all the way throughout Physics class. Mr Ng was immediately roped into the session as soon as he stepped into class at NWG-3. It was basically like three consecutive meet and greet sessions with our lecturers as everyone lined up to take individual or group photos with Miss Cherilyn, Mr Lee and Mr Ng. After Mr Ng left, there was still time left before Chemistry class, so we dared Chok to do the gwiyomi in front of everyone. He did it, and he emerged from NWG-3 that day a victor of life.

Our last class, Chemistry, was at SW3-9. It wasn’t SW3-8, which was the very first classroom we had our very first class on the very first day of A Levels in Sunway College, but the arrangement of tables and chairs in the classroom was similar, so all of us collectively agreed to seat ourselves according to our seating arrangements on the first day of college, meaning I sat next to Zitian, behind Karu and Ken Fui. Miss MC entered and we continued discussing our Chem test paper 4 until the last 20 minutes, and then we took photos with Miss MC too. The day’s classes ended with a class group photo with Miss MC at the second floor balcony, after which many exclamations of “thank you!”s were exchanged.

After that, majority of the class (approx. 20 of us) set out for lunch at Seoul Garden at Paradigm Mall in several cars. Taliza and I followed in Bellyn’s car, and most of everyone were already there when we arrived except for those who went in Harris’ car because they were caught in the SS15 jam.

Halfway through barbecue lunch, I started to get a really intense headache and it had been going on for the entire week now so naturally, being the extremely paranoid person I am, my thoughts gradually started to drift towards really terrible outcomes and I got so scared that I had to leave the restaurant and call my mum and I started crying so I hid behind the lifts and after the sudden cry that strained all the blood vessels in my eyeballs that I had to wait in the toilet for the redness to subside, my headache felt a whole lot better, which led me to eventually believe that this headache might be purely psychological after all. Not being able to cry and repressing my emotions was manifesting itself physically and that was a really frightening thought. But still, I felt worlds better after that as I rejoined my friends at the restaurant.

After lunch, we had a generally very chill hangout session outside the restaurant where they had an outdoor stage and everything. My camera roll got progressively fuller after that. It was a very nice place with very nice people and the weather was also very nice (it was the drizzling before the rain) and I was very, very happy and contented, but just like the gloomy weather, there was an underlying tinge of sadness to all of it that I refused to acknowledge then and there, lest it cancelled out the laughs and the smiles on everyone’s face. It was kinda the end, but not really, either. It was like a transitioning period, more like. We were just sort of stuck in this in-between, and wasn’t that A Levels was all about? We, as A Levels students, not high school students, but not university students, either. Like a stairwell. And it wasn’t too bad, actually, being in this in-between. It’s the part where you have to move on to the next level of stairs that sucks, as all familiarity and comfort of the routines you’ve had at the stairwell are stripped off, just as you were getting accustomed to the clockworks of the system. And that, not being able to attend classes with all my classmates anymore, made me feel like I’d lost something valuable and precious that I had taken for granted all along and never really appreciated.

We left shortly after that, the three of us again in Bellyn’s car.

That night, Bellyn, Zitian and I had a mini foodventure as we set out in Belle’s silver Viva again, first to Standing Theory in SS2 where the hype over their waffles was justified -it was so good that between the three of us, it was finished in approximately only over a minute. Plus, the owner (we assume) of the cafe was like a carbon copy of a younger version of Taliza’s dad, appearance, dressing, voice and all. We had waffles for dessert first, so after that we headed to SS15 for a proper dinner at Little Fat Duck, which was basically just a black truck by the road that looked really cool and sold RM5 pasta. Bellyn and Zitian ordered pesto and I ordered aglio olio with iced lemon tea and we sat at the mini tables they provided next to the truck by the roadside. We also got bread at RT Pastry (again) (for the fourth time in two weeks).

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It was a really, really nice night out with good friends and nice music playing in the car during the entire journey. I don’t want these nights to end, either.

Back at SMR, Zitian and I crashed at Rumin’s room until 2AM when we used the off-peak hour 4GB data quota on my broadband to watch Miss Cherilyn’s videos again. And then Harris’ birthday video. And then Shit A Level Students Say video. And then The 1975 music videos while I scrolled through old photos once again on my phone. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one from my class that was feeling the same way and doing the same thing. It was 4AM when I went back to my room and wrote the previous blogpost and 4.30AM when I finally slept. Or tried to sleep anyway. When I woke up this morning, it felt like I’d barely slept at all and my entire body ached from, I don’t know, emotions? Sadness? Because that’s all I remember feeling as I tossed and turned in the night.

I hate this. I hate this coming to an end. I hate it so very much. But one good thing I have to admit about things ending is that you tend to forget about the bad things and only remember the good things, which makes things more painful in general, of course, but they were good experiences and memories that happened to you, and they are a part of who you are today, contributing to the good life you’ve led.

I hate things ending, but “ending” is just a word, and as long as we are all still alive, there is no real end to what we have.

And now, to A2 we go.

Last Day of College