anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

and this is random/like our kingdom

I reached home at 10 last night, which should explain the lack of an update. I had to stay until 9 in school for this poetry reading thing in the evening. It was good.

I have a lot of things to say in this entry, so bear with me. Today is a pretty bleak and dismal day. Last day of school for this term it may be, but I got my end of term report.

English Language: 70%, A2, Band I.
Mother Tongue (Chinese): 61.5%, B4, Band III.
Combined Humanities: 36%, F9, Band IV.
English Literature: 76%, A1, Band I.
Additional Maths: 45%, D7, Band IV.
Maths: 31%, F9, Band IV.
Physics: 32%, F9, Band IV.
Science (Chem & Bio): 43%, E8, Band IV.

Band legend:
I - The top 20%
II - The next 30%
III - The next 30%
IV - The bottom 20%

Man, I really suck, don't I? I got 31 points. Can't even get into a polytechnic with that! My teacher gave me a very good remark though. She wrote it in Chinese, but in a rough translation, she says I have a flair for writing and I'm mature for my age, and if I continue to work hard (um, since when have I done that?), I'd be something great in a future. That blasted composition that I didn't do which costed me one Chinese lesson, not that I minded in any way, shape or form, but you know. That composition. Teacher said it was brilliant. I wrote about innocence lost.

Also, the food fair was today. I hate food fairs. The food sucks, the canteen is freaking crowded and the floor is disgusting. It gives me a headache. It's all in the name of charity and stuff, but honestly, I haven't even the money for myself, you know? I give money readily to people on the streets who look like they may need it, but ask me to contribute to a fund-raising event, and the most I'd contribute is S$2. The problem with this crap food fair thing was, you had to pay at least S$5. It was total crap.

So last night. Guess what. Went to Pasta Fresca with the family after they picked me up from school. The object of my infatuation for the past couple of weeks was there. :) :) :) :) I found out his name. Or rather, my mother did. I couldn't see the nametag from where I was sitting, so when he went to take my tiramisu, I begged Mom to help me look at his nametag. And the most amazing part is, she humoured me. I still can't believe it. Sure, she thought me insane, but she still humoured me. His name has 3 letters. It begins with a "G" and ends with an "M", and it means precious stone. Hehe.

I'm not very subtle when it comes to concealing my thoughts when I do come across someone who makes me go, "Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyy godddddddddd". I went into the place, and he was standing behind this one table, and I just stared. God, I'm such a dweeb, I could just slay myself. I kept looking and making it so damn obvious. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he suspects something. My whole family knows about it, okay? My dad included. After placing the orders he asked me who the handsome guy was. I pointed him out, and daddy dearest made some comment about him being short and him looking like the Bangladesh (I think) workers in his factory. Like that's supposed to be an insult! Bangladesh men are gorgeous! I happened to see this good-looking Indian guy on the MRT on my way home, but I digress.

My hunky waiter spilled water on my mom while clearing the dishes. I wasn't there 'cause I went to the loo to wash my hands, but when I came back my mom was telling me how stupid he is. I returned in time to see him drop a fork, so I thought it was about that until I reached for an almost-empty cup, drank from it and realised the table was wet. That was when I realised it. The wetness of the table was quite obvious, but hell, I ain't the most observant person around, so what are ya gonna do, bloody shoot me in the head? Look, don't do that until I get my O Levels results back, and don't do that unless I do like utter shit. I wouldn't even give a shit anymore then.

I've been thinking about him the entire day. It's really sad, I know, but I can't help it. He was the first thought on my mind when I woke up. I thought of him while I brushed my teeth. I thought of him on the school bus. I thought of him while walking to my classroom. I thought of him through flag-raising. I thought of him while sleeping through mass, and I'm obviously still thinking of him as I type this. I wrote 3 poems today in school, one in the early morning at 7, two in the late morning at around 11. I wrote them out of pure boredom, and not surprisingly so, one is entirely about him, while another contained verses about him (example: "He spills water/On my mother/And goes away silently"). I don't know what to do. I'm really so bloody shy. I wish I could change, but I can't change myself. No matter how I tell myself that I rule the world, the fact is, I'm still rather insecure. It may not show in this diary, but, you know, I say it, and I know it, and I mean it.

I should just bloody blame it on the fact that I attend an all-girls school. What I was begging for did come, but I messed it up. He gave me my cake, and my original plan was to thank him with a smile and have him smile that devastating smile back and I'd die, right? I did not do that. Like the true retard that I am, I kept my gaze on the table and resorted to staring at his arm.

Somebody just KILL ME, okay? For my stupidity, and my atrocious grades. I don't know why I didn't just slash them freaking wrists with that pair of scissors on that night in 2000.

Short description from: my poem. The one I quoted from in this entry.

Tags: crushes, first boyfriend, grades, guys, school, secondary school
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