What an irony.the poem really had no title,or none that was shown,at least.the poem was a torture in itself.it had "disaster" written in its every stanza and how cld i bear to blithely walk into the 'trap' that i thot it was?and yet,the drama extract turned out to be the killer.i still cannot get over it.whatever made me attempt it was either a dose of inane courage or sheer stupidity.we only had ONE drama analysis lect before and i gave it a shot.the wrong choice,obviously.no one to blame but myself.oh,i could hv continued writing!why did i stop halfway,at a point that was neither substantial nor hollow?the result would hv been better than now.sometimes,i wonder what goes on through my head.just ytd,someone smsed me in GP class when we were on the issue of space travel and told me this: space is your head. and god,i concede.it must be space-how else can my dumb decisions and failure at almost everything i take a shot at be explained?
the pathos of the situation is that,i don't even know where i went wrong.doing the reviews seems to be a relatively easy task,but why couldn't i do the same during then?i thought i'd be able to get through this rnd,i was absolutely wrong.yet agn,how cld i hv been so hopeful?
i nd to stop disappointing ppl.
the past wknd was a short hiatus from all the noise gng on.a nite too short,but enough fer me to indulge in a lil strawberry-pink.it was almost sublime-just about sufficient.now i'll gt back down to blue and black.what spurs me on is simple,yet essential.
interview workshop this sat,and perhaps a movie session next wed.lost time shall be made up for.and it's sad how some songs still manage to bring tears to my eyes after hearing them fer so many times in so many years now."Graduation" is my nemesis,anyone can tell you that.
=praying fer owen=
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