Purgation

The atmosphere was dry with tension and quiet anticipation. I had myself upright on the chair, instead of my laid-back lean with my European leg cross on, one lap neatly crossed over the other, a sign of confidence or utter nonchalance. Today was a big day, and my body language knew it. I even had my shoes on.

The class made an effort to cheer on everyone who went up front to get their results, but we gave up and shut ourselves up a few names later. I kept myself quiet too. I just wanted to calm these rattlesnakes in my stomach. The room temperature dialed up a notch. I calmly flexed my neck. Air bubbles quietly cracked away. I had a fair amount of confidence, but something had my head held in my hands.

As atrocious as my Malay had been, I was pretty much expecting a golden A1. An A2 would mean a good deal, maybe a few cockups here and there. B3 would mean going through this roller coaster from hell again. I didn't have any thoughts about getting any lower grade, partly cause I wasn't that pessimistic, but mostly cause I would be too busy hanging myself on a noose if I did. Anyway.

My teacher had himself announcing names along with said students' grade, so that didn't spoil the surprise for me at all. Nor all my buddies.

When my name was called, I briefly got up and quietly grabbed the sheet of paper, all the time forgetting he'd mention my grade. Of course, I was duly reminded, at just the most opportune time possible.

B3.

I hadn't even returned to my seat yet. Hell, I hadn't managed to ready myself psychologically for a B3. My spine went numb with cold. I flipped up the paper. There it was. My eyes screened through the badly photocopied piece of paper and stop at my grade.

B-friggin-3.

I felt my face going white and my legs going weak.The room suddenly went cold. I plopped onto my chair, dumbstruck. My buddy beside me would later remark that I'd immediately shut up after I got my results.

B3.

I didn't know what to feel. Anger? Pity? Contempt?  Holy cow, I felt the lump forming in my throat and salty tears hurting my eyes with the fake lenses. Shit don't cry, I thought. There are kids dying in Africa.

Somehow knowing kids are dying in Africa is supposed to cheer people up and make things better. It doesn't. Stop doing that, anyone trying to cheer anybody up. Anyway.

I manage to hold back the tears though. I was just not myself for majority of this shitshow.

B3. I chuckled in disbelief to myself. Unbelievable.

I had to face my friends afterwards and keep a stiff upper lip smiling and congratulating them on their guaranteed A1s. Yes yes, good for you! Congratulations, it all paid off! Damn, don't get too cocky! I knew you could do it! I saw them cheer and rejoice between themselves and laugh and generally be happy with their results. I looked on a distance away, alone and pitiful as I was. I felt alone and I felt left behind.

The lump was acting up again. My smile flinches, oblivious to everyone, of course. My day was done. Get all these thoughts out. Time to partition the depression and bounce back. Life still goes on, and so do five other subjects.

B3 though straight up unbelievable.

Do Me a Favour - Arctic Monkeys

What makes me happy?

• Milk. Nothing to rouse the spirits than some calcium in the body. The refreshing feel of the milk running down my throat cheers me anyday of the week. If only it was neither expensive nor harmful if taken too much.
• Music. A haven from the real world, escaping to a utopia where anything that can happen, will happen. Sounds you thought never existed, feelings unfathomable pieced beautifully in an amazing cocktail of words and rhythm. It's like daydreaming but with audio. And no picture. I don't think I need to elaborate more bahahaha.
• Reading and writing. Another refuge from reality. Think watching a movie, but more rewarding. Besides the vast imagination that isn't limited to certain imagery (ahem movies), you improve your language and exposure and tend to look more intelligent too. And you are. Hahaha.
• Discovery. Meeting a new friend, seeing new places, finding a stack of old photos, listening to a new album. There's not much to top off being able to add some new zest to my daily routine of boredom.
• Guitaring. It's a hobby, what do you expect?

Of Monsters and Men - Mountain Sound

Insanity.

Disclaimer: I am(visually) fine!!!!

Really though. I'm tired of explaining what little they can understand from whatever I went through regarding my vision. What's important, is that my vision is fine, all praises to Allah, and that I'm just long-sighted and therefore need spectacles. But of course, I should explain what exactly happened and what's gonna happen nao.

Here goes.

Let's go right back to the surgery itself. Two surgeries, two weeks, two eyes, and a lot of money. The lenses in my eyes are surgically removed and replaced with a pair of synthetic lenses, also called intraocular lens. 

These pair of lenses are monofocal, meaning they can only focus through one area. Similar to camera lenses, it basically means I can only focus on one area, near or far, or whatever, really. One will be made blur and the other as clear as daylight on a sunny beach. These lenses are made to a certain degree such that I am long-sighted. I had two other choices where I could be short-sighted and need spectacles for distance sports like, er, well, sports. (you can see why I ditched it) or be long on one and short on the other, which while sounding like the best of both worlds, it takes a /lot/ of getting used to. 

Anyway, back to the surgery. Post surgery recovery time constitutes getting used to the fake lenses, which took nearest makes no difference, a month. After (painfully, I should add) waiting out the month, I get a pair of spectacles ready. This pair of spectacles are no different than your normal spectacles, the only difference being that they're for long-sighted eyes, so they enable me to be near-sighted, hence affectionately being called "reading glasses."

After everything, I'm basically the same person, but better. My long vision is almost spot on, halos aside, and my near vision crap, hence the glasses. I have to admit I rely on my spectacles with simple activities like reading and writing (none of these two for a month I was dead) (I couldn't have sports too and that basically rammed the damn hammer into the coffin beside the final nail) (yep) and that makes for a bit of trouble. I also suck at distance related activities, like gauging when to smack the shit out of a shuttlecock or anticipating a volley to shoot the ball into the roof of the net.

I don't regret anything though. If this is what's planned by powers beyond myself, then I will follow through. I apologise in advance if my new found vision makes me a worse sportsman and a troublesome person in essence. 

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