Ready-set-go!

See that? My impending doom. So near, yet so far away.

It's strange. A part of me feels sick. In those three days, part of the fate of my education will be decided. There are so many expectations it's scary. There's my mother, who chants 99.9 everyday - and my cousin and sister join in. There's my Literature teacher, who dropped a hint that he thinks Star and I are capable of 50s. There are all the peers, who laugh lightly and say: it's not possible for you to get anything less than perfect.

And it's kind of encouraging, I suppose, that they think I'm capable. But it's more terrifying than anything. What if I don't do well? How many disappointed glances? How many awkward consolations? After my sister got a ninety-plus, people think that I'll breeze past 95. But it's not so easy. All these practise exams - they're not all that comforting, you know. Sometimes I do fairly well. Sometimes dreadful. But never perfect.

I'm an atomic bomb, I think. I'm going through these crazy moodswings. I get so frustrated so easily. I don't think it's fair to say that it upsets me more than anyone else, but it feels like it. I hate randomly exploding, and then that guilty feelinng afterwards. I'd like to apologize, but it just doesn't happen in our house. I do it sometimes, but most of all, this house based on let's-just-forget. It's all so... ADASFADFHKJ. I can't even find words.

I guess this is sounding really slow, as opposed to what the title would suggest, huh?

There's this other side, though. It's this really nervous, adrenaline rushing side. You see, if someone were to say, at this moment, right now, that the examiners, the education department, the... whoever-is-concerned, decided to have some mercy and move the exams to a later date so we had more time to study... well, I would slap them.

I can't wait. I can't wait for the exams to be over. I wish they'd happen now. I just want to be able to shut the booklet, put down the pen, leave the hall and never look back. I want to be able to say 'what's done is done, it's over.' I want that... closure, I suppose. I'm sick of studying, sick of anticipating, sick of being sick. I need a break.

That's my flip side. In less than a week, I will never have to study maths again. Oh, sweet bliss.

And NaNo's started. I'm a participant. My word count? 0. Yeah. Brilliant huh? I just can't bring myself to start yet, 'cause I'm not sure I can stop. And these day are flying by in a weird kind of slow motion. I can feel like a practise exam is taking forever, but after doing one, two, three, it's suddenly so late and I can't keep my eyes open. I'm aiming to start before the exams anyway, but I'm not sure I will. Either way, I'm still doing it. I'm just... waiting, for that kick off. That moment the exam finishes, and I'll be a free bird.

Anyway, I'm going to leave you guys with some awesome. Star and I have this thing going on - I've mentioned before - it's like the Things We Forget campaign. We stick up inspirational/funny sticky notes up around the school, anonymously. It's our little anonymous way of making a difference, I suppose. All credit to her - she comes up with these ideas, initiates them and all, I'm just her side-kick. Moving on - there's another thing we've been experimenting with. You may have seen pictures up around the internet. Well, here's one we made for the Study Hall:

And the chances did disappear rather rapidly, if I may say so myself. We had one to do with smiles too, but that still hasn't run out. I wonder what that says about our school? Anyway, that being said, there was an Incident. Where somebody had left us a comment. A negative one. I guess Star and I knew what we wanted to say, but not exactly. So she texted her older brother, and his reply was so perfect, we edited to be the reply to the person... and, well, you can see the awesome:

Mwahaha. J'adore this response. I'm allowed to brag about it, right, considering I myself did not invent it?  Whatchu think?

ATM:
Writing: NaNo. Hahaha. Not. I will, though.
Reading: The House of Special Purpose. John Boyne. Again, not. But I will.
Listening to: Stars. Grace Potter & the Nocturnals. It's so.. pretty.
Feeling: Somewhere on the line between thrilled and depressed. I donno.

I lit a fire with the love you left behind

And it burned wild, 

and crept up the mountain side

I followed your ashes into outer space

I can't look out the window,

I can't look at this place.

I can't look at the stars,

They make me wonder where you are

Stars,

Up on heaven's boulevard

And if I know, you at all,

I know you've gone too far

So I, I can't look at the stars

All those times we looked up at the sky,

Looking out so far,

It felt like we could fly

And now I'm all alone in the dark of the night

And the moon is shining,

But I can't see the light.

Peace in,
Laila