WARNING: This entry, with its oozing exaggeration and venomous words might result in reader's imminent fatality. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

After three weeks of sheer torment, recalcitrant lethargy, untamed procrastination, restrained 'couch-potato-ing' pleasures, and countless failed attempts to study, I'M FINALLY FREEEEEEEEE. . . Freedom, like cherry bubblegum - the sweetness stays on the tip of your tongue even after the gum has been spat out. And today, I've tasted my freedom. It's as if the barricades of hell have been eradicated, and we the Form Fives, who have been bitterly condemned to death can FINALLY flee for our lives. So, yeah... SPM is over people! 

Okay, so maybe SPM isn't officially over yet - I still have a Chinese paper to sit for on Monday. SIGHS* But for most people (and also those who don't give a shit about the Chinese paper), SPM is a forsaken past which, I believe, none of us would ever dream of repeating.

As I walked out of the exam hall this afternoon, I saw people sniffling and hugging, tears streaming down their cheeks; people shouting and exclaiming in delight, signing and scribbling phone numbers on each other's school uniform; people snapping pictures as if they could freeze their last shared moment when the camera button was clicked and trap whatever memory worth salvaging behind the glass screen of a phone. The first thing that crossed my mind was these people gotta get a hold of themselves. It's just high school. C'mon'. 

But as I was walking back home, with rather droopy eyelids and a sore bottom, it began to dawn on me that, today would be my last or second last day wearing a high school uniform and walking back home from school with a bag slung onto my left shoulder. Today would be the last or second last day for me to see my classmates (not that I'm particularly fond of them), to eat greasy cafeteria food, to walk in and out of the teachers' office just because it's perfectly air-conditioned, to explore every nook and cranny in the school compound.

Today, yes, today... the last or second last day for me to make things right, to fix a few broken bonds, and to muster the courage to talk to him. But I did... I did talk to him today. Well, it wasn't exactly a proper conversation. Not one I would call romantic, not even with the least bit of humane sentimentality. I simply handed him the textbooks I had been meaning to return, and he merely muttered an ok, that's all of them. I strode off to the exam hall, he walked back to his friends. I didn't look back, and neither did he. That was it. I know I still have to see him on Monday ugh*, but I doubt that he will make any further communication or contact with me unless necessary, and I believe I will do the same. Because... that's what I've been doing all my life. Running away from people. Turning my back against people. Hurting people. Pretending that I do not care. Pretending that I know nothing about love. You see, everything is a mistake. This whole mess started from two people and two foolish mistakes. He shouldn't have fallen in love with me, and I shouldn't have fueled him with false hope. However, there's no one to blame, but me. 

And I thought it would be easy for me to walk away again, like I've always had. Walk away, and never turn back, for there's nothing left here for me to remember and cherish. Nothing but a crucible of ashes, an emptied vessel. And I thought it would be easy... But it wasn't. Turns out that there are things worth remembering and cherishing after all.