I have nothing better to do and I'm just really in the mood for a long post. So prepare yourselves for a novel. I will reveal everything that happened between those one-and-a-half-hours or two-and-a-half-hours period of time that is also known as torture time. Or not.

So friday came in an overnight and the hitherto night was spent poring over this 1692-paged dictionary (No, I'm not exaggerating) that is part of of the Curious-Incident-of-the-Night-Time aftermath. In short, this Macmillan dictionary that was the cheap-ass prize for last year's essay writing contest. Okay, I won't get carried away. So I sat down there, along with these 41 other people probably thinking, what should I write about? or which comes first, sender's address or recepient's address? or will My Race Against Time come out? or is stall number6 selling Nasi Lemak today? or the guy behind me stinks like shit. As for me, I couldn't really remember what I was thinking at the very moment, but I do remember feeling exalted when I read through the question paper. Without doubt or hesitation, I immediately wrote 3 in the foolscap provided. Encircled it. Happiness. Now I know it's such an easy topic to write about, and very typical, yeah. But I got so used to writing about one-word topics that choosing among the given suggestions is not really an option for me. I wrote and wrote. And wrote again. Yes, without stopping. Surprisingly, I did not have a writers' fucking block or anything. I just sat there, wrote my fingers away. And then it was over. Only after the invigilator announced "time's up" did I notice that I forgot to use my favourite word at the time - VERTIGINOUS (adj. Having a sensation of whirling or falling). So I was like fuck lah, after all those days of feeling 'vertiginous' myself, i forgot to use the very word, really fuck ah. However there was no other choice but to let it go. So I did.

And then came the 3day weekend. Which, SURPRISE SURPRISE, was spent largely at home. And April went away like an unnoticed falling leaf would.

And then it was 2nd of May. Literature paper was... I couldn't really find the right words to describe it. It was not difficult, nor was it easy. And it's hard to describe it in anyway because Literature has always been so unpredictable for me. I mean you don't even have to study for it. It's unseen, for crying out loud. And you'll just have to sit there and answer as best as you could right on the spot. And that's it. Physics, on the other hand, can only be described as weird. Okay, I didn't mean the paper itself was weird. I meant the feeling that Physics brought me was just definitely weird. I remember not being able to answer this particular question and not even feeling the slightest sign of panic. One year ago, I would probably have stared at the question for 2minutes or so completely dumbfounded and not knowing what to do and losing all the better of me and screwing the rest of the paper. But it was a hundred-percent different this time. And after the paper was even weirder. There was no air of any feeling at all. I wasn't relieved that one paper was down, or worried that I could have done the whole thing wrong, or [insert adjective here] at all. I felt numb. Maybe I am numb.

Wednesday. E.Maths paper1 and Chemistry. After all those warnings from Mrs.Ng that this year's paper will not be as easy as last year's one, I guess most of us realised that Mrs.Ng can so overstate things if she wants to. I wouldn't say Paper1 was this easy, but it wasn't as bad as Mrs.Ng portrayed it to us. In the bus on the way home, Arvin said "E.Maths so fucking easy sia, like primary lidat". I would have to agree, though not to that extent. And finally, the big frustration. Chemistry. I never saw everything that came coming. I did the first-half pretty alright. I even took my time answering this particular question that could have taken me only 2minutes or so. But no, being the asshole that I am, I took my time on it. And at that moment I was like aiyah, okay lah, still have more than one hour. I guess the turning point was when I was answering this question: draw the dot-and-cross diagram of C3H6. I thought I knew how to do it. So I switched to my pencil and started on. Then I realised that what I was doing is all fucking wrong. I tried again. No success. I skipped the question. No worries. The paper went on and soon enough I had 3 questions left unanswered. 12 marks in total. Now I wouldn't have panicked the way I did if the invigilator did not announce the amount of time left once every ten minutes. I mean it's like so oppressive lah. Half-an-hour left is already so pressurizing, especially if you haven't started on the last section that is worth 30 marks, let alone hearing your teacher's voice every now and then informing you of the number of minutes left as if saying just quit lah, you won't be able to do it dumbo. And then finally the torture was over and all you can do is to bitch about what is unchangeable and to type a probably-1000word entry on your blog so as to keep yourself from biting off all that is left of your nails or from jumping out your 12th floor window.

And today, thank all the graciousness, today was alright. Today is alright even though all my right-hand fingers are hurting like fuck hell. Today is alright even though it shouldn't be. Social Studies paper is comparable to Literature. And I would rather not say anything about it- partly because I'm still typing my fingers out besides the fact that I had just mentioned. E.Maths paper 2... is just so similar to Physics. And yes, I meant the aftermath of it. There was like no worries even though there should have been. There should totally have been. Right through the first question, I already didn't know what to do. Fuck, compound interest. How the fuck do I get compound interest again? And, like, with guidance and the hallelujah singing not in the background but in the foreground, it all came back to me. And there was this other one. Length of line segment BC. I was like totally blank and I did everything I could from peering over Yan Ling's paper. Yes, I'm serious. But of course I didn't do that. And again, probably in reward of my honesty, everything shot back in my mind. It's like ching. It's there. And there were many other circumstances that might have ruined all my self's togetherness, but I managed to stay intact. It's just like I'm telling you. It's weird.

And now I'm home. And I feel like I'm getting a fever. I don't have any paper for tomorrow. And I wish all the rest of you good luck for your Mother Tongue's exam. And tomorrow 2 people I know are celebrating their birthdays. Happy Birthday! And I think I'm going to stop now because now not only my fingers are hurting, my head is, too. My eyes are losing focus and I'm so typing like the narrator of TheCuriousIncidentOfTheNight-Time would. Yes, lika an autistic.