it was with incredible dread that i woke up 2 hours early on my first day of school. why dread, you ask. because i would otherwise have 2 hours more of badly needed sleep. and so i lazed in bed, weaving in and out of consciousness, hovering over dreams and nightmares.
i dreamt that i replied to ah fang's and suting's smses, and i woke up over and over to check if i really replied.
i dreamt that i missed school, failed my modules and eventually got kicked out of nus. and i had to wake up repeatedly to see if i was still on time.
i dreamt that baby was leaving me for 2 someones named isabel and elisabeth. and i made sure that i had indeed received his morning lovey-dovey sweet-as-honey message.
and when i woke up 2 hours later, i was hit by this repulsive thought of not going to school, and of letting me fail my modules, and of just lying in bed and rotting with eternity. it felt as though i didnt, couldnt and shouldnt exist. it was terrifying. and more so, because it made me come to terms with how utterly meaningless my life was. that it seemingly didnt make a difference whether i went to school or not, whether i graduated or not, whether i lived or not.
my memories have failed me. for i cannot find a single moment in my entire repertoire of experiences that defines my existence.
all the friendships that i've had in my entire 22 years have made me understood that beauty fades with time.
all the relationships seemed to tell me as though nothing can last forever.
working all those temporary and part time jobs have only gone so far as to make me believe i'm expendable.
i struggled to spell 'authority' yesterday, and i struggled to spell 'tutorial' today. i wonder if my memories are really failing me.
if they are indeed, and if memories are what defines who we are (as someone so aptly reminded me yesterday), then i wonder if what i'm experiencing right now is real, or am i a figment of someone else's imagination, existing in the realm of make-believe and fantasies.
for reasons undefined, i would like to believe in the latter. that i'm a product of imagination, and that it could be easy, erasing the manuscript of my life.
