IDONTWANNACOUNT.

Writing, to me; is like playing a piano for you. Or making cross-stitches. Or making an artful design with wires. Or perhaps eating char kuey tiaw with chopsticks. You don't really think, do you? You just do it. I'm at home now, and savoring every minute of it. I went to Dr. Mohan's clinic this afternoon for my second hep b shot and to get some medication for my cough and flu. It got real bad last night when I threw up, ah finally. Kind of anticipating it, 'cause it'd been building up for quite some time. And oh, I was in the same flight with Nick last night, so I got some company waiting for the boarding time. Which, reminds me of my unfinished viewing over A-Team and my next schedule of some 50 bucks worth of medication and what-nots. Crap. I've got some messed up timelines.

I hate it when I do this. Reviewing my day like some kind of a set up machine. But that's just what I did, so I'd do better to suck it all up and accept it. Oh well, it'd been awhile since I last took a pause from this heavy IB-ride and enjoy some human moments. While waiting for Dr. Mohan, I read Farley's Seven Tears into the Sea, a 279-pages book, square, thin and tiny. I guess I've read too much of e-books that I'd forgotten how good real books feel like between my fingers. The smell of parchment, the yellowish glow of its surface hit by rays of sun - these little things simply awed me. I might be overthinking, but it's a good feeling. I've a Biology design due next Tuesday, but I really don't feel like doing it now. Tomorrow's a word made for children and losers, they say; but yeah, how bad can they get? Oh, I love talking to Dr. Mohan; he treated me, talked to me as an equal.

"We're sending the better ones to RCSI, only the better ones," - Pn. Fauziah, the co-councillor.

The better ones huh, tercabar jugak lah. Her words had been repeating themselves over and over again for the past few weeks, and it's pumping me up to my core, mannn. I AM gonna be the better one, I'll make sure of that Insha-Allah. Now, what I had in mind is that I'm gonna grab that 38 points and apply for it. Once I got it, I'll take it as a sign from Him that I'm indeed capable, worthy of that institution. As tough as it is to graduate from there, they told me I'm gonna be a really good doctor if I actually did. So I was told. I'm not a riffraff, and I'm not a dreamer. My dad knows me, and he knows how much I've wanted it since I was a child and he asked me to go on. My mum just asked me not to be disappointed if I don't get it. No I'm not gonna. A little, perhaps, but I won't dwell. Have I told you Irish Universities had limit their quota up to 35 only for us the KMB applicants? Perhaps not. But yes they had. My interview went well, but everybody else was, too. Faith is not the only thing I have left - too early for me to claim otherwise. I've got hard work and strength, and a free spirit. Four months, baby. Four months can offer you anything, even miracles. I've seen miracles flying in and out before my eyes, and I've seen them wasted (can you call them miracles if they're wasted?). If there's such a thing.

I'm supposed to eat my pills after dinner. I've had two sandwiches and a hot cup of tea at 11pm, was that a dinner? One way or another, I gotta take my pills. Chiao.