Tuesday, November 17, 2009


First, I decided that I should do sports physiotherapy. Naturally, you were elated at my career choice. Then I realised that my focus in this field was wrong. I only wanted to tour with sports teams. I could never visualise myself in geriatrics. You were upset.

I decided hospitality and hotel management would be my choice since it wasn't so academic. You said no. You'd never know what kind of people you meet in that line. I vehemently insisted that you'd meet unscrupulous people anywhere. But you still said no.

Fine. Decision change to something more academic; the way you like it. Architecture - science and art combo. You were okay initially, then you changed your mind. Long working hours, deadline stress etc. I tried to show you my interest in construction so you relented a little. But I still knew you wanted me in the medical field.

Now, here I am in Form 6, after a series of failed scholarship applications, producing thrashy results worthy of a garbage dump. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough to work my way through this bloody system. Maybe I'm unhappy, but that's no reason to flunk math and get a CGPA that screams alerts like a heart monitor fixed to racing horse. Or maybe, as I've said, I'm just a naturally-born idiot. I'm not happy with the rotten results, the stupid way things tend to go.

And then you say now: What about journalism? Mass communication? Wait. Weren't you the one who pushed me towards science and all this biology stuff? All your expectations seemed to direct me to the medical field or banking. It was just this strong vibe you gave me. But I'd be living your life, not mine.

Thus, you posed me a dilemma: to leave and splurge a large sum in private institutions for a professional course or stay and face high posibilities of failure in Form 6.

But will I be able to leave? The many things I've built for myself now seems like shacks built on sandy ground. Can I let go of the task of producing a school magazine, of pushing the brigade to greater heights? It seems cowardly; running and shirking from challenges. But at the same time, it sounds sensible; leaving a sinking boat for a sturdy ship.

I see my UK, Japan and all overseas dreams evaporating into thin air.

And I'm good, good, good to go
I got to get away
Get away from all of my mistakes

So here I sit looking at the traffic lights
The red extinguishes the hope that the green ignites
I want to run away I want to ditch my life
Cause all of my mistakes keep me awake at night


It just now hit me this is more than just a set back
And when you spelled it out, well, I guess I didn't get that
And every trace of momentum is gone
And this isn't turning out the way I want


And I spent all last night
Tearing down
Every stoplight
And stop sign in this town
Now I think there might
Be no way to stop me now
I'll get away despite
The fact I'm so weighed down

All of my escapes have been exhausted
I thought I had a way but then I lost it
And my resistance was once much stronger
And I know I can't go on like this much longer

I just gotta stop running and catch my breath. God I need You.

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