Take deep breaths, smell the salty sea.
Ok it's 0122 and i should really be asleep because i have work but I can't seem to sleep... so I shall post.
Prologue is my second home now. Or should I say, { prologue }; for those of you who don't know, I now work at { prologue } at Ion and it's been pretty smooth so far. First pay check rolled in today - $*60 dollars. Quite happy with the cash flow - it's been more of expenditure than income for the past couple of weeks. It seemed as if the holidays had been chugged into the { prologue } cashier till, as if I bartered time for money. It's 31st December already. 2010 is coming to a close.
Which leads me on to the next thing: O level results. 12 - no, 11 days from now, and everything will be made clear: whether the nights spent studying, the hours in class, the years in secondary school - it all boils down to that little piece of paper with our fates sealed. Yes, I know I'm being very melodramatic - I'm not going to bother justifying myself for this - because I can. In any case, this is something that I am both dreading and anticipating. On one hand, it feels as if the effort put in would yield fantastic results, but on the other hand, there is this pit of nothingness that threatens to swallow that hope, to strangle that fragile, tender hope with the hangman's noose of nervousness and overdue guilt built up over past reflections.
Damn it I just want the damn results.
Prologue is my second home now. Or should I say, { prologue }; for those of you who don't know, I now work at { prologue } at Ion and it's been pretty smooth so far. First pay check rolled in today - $*60 dollars. Quite happy with the cash flow - it's been more of expenditure than income for the past couple of weeks. It seemed as if the holidays had been chugged into the { prologue } cashier till, as if I bartered time for money. It's 31st December already. 2010 is coming to a close.
Which leads me on to the next thing: O level results. 12 - no, 11 days from now, and everything will be made clear: whether the nights spent studying, the hours in class, the years in secondary school - it all boils down to that little piece of paper with our fates sealed. Yes, I know I'm being very melodramatic - I'm not going to bother justifying myself for this - because I can. In any case, this is something that I am both dreading and anticipating. On one hand, it feels as if the effort put in would yield fantastic results, but on the other hand, there is this pit of nothingness that threatens to swallow that hope, to strangle that fragile, tender hope with the hangman's noose of nervousness and overdue guilt built up over past reflections.
Damn it I just want the damn results.