I'm not sure what to write.
There was an assembly for us today. Some of us were forced to leave school. It was a strange atmosphere, like the aftershock of an earthquake. Like everything else, it goes both ways.
People sit through class to class with their mind wondering off into oblivion. Teachers tried their best to get their attention but all in vain, most just give up and started talking to themselves. Another reason why I respect them and never want to be one of them.
Intellectuals walk around with their heads in the clouds, debating to themselves which scholarship course to take.
Others watch them bumble into desks, trip on their toes and fall down from the stairs in awe. Not really, but they wish. As for me? I wish them to get the hell out of MS as soon as possible. In a good way. :D
I, on the other hand, along with a hundred of hopefuls, are hanging on the edge. We are given hope, a tiny hope. A chance so slight one would be crazy to try and insane to let it pass. It drives us insane.
March pass is a compulsory act of patriotism for Lower Six in our school, apparently. To march in front of the Sultan is the highest honour a Bruneian could achieve, I believe. I also believe that unicorns lives with bigfoot at the end of the rainbow but what do I know, right?
So, as immediately as we were informed we had to practice, we were forced to start. It was fun, somehow. Funny, too. It just seems right to let lose your inner child. Even for a few minutes. I seem to hold a looser grip on it recently. Need to buy a tighter one soon.
I especially enjoyed my 'hanging out, let loose' time waiting for the march pass practice to start.
Oh, condolences to those who would have to leave us. Especially to Bahrin Asyikin, Ugama classmate for a year, friend for a lifetime. Farewell, ex-captain.
There was an assembly for us today. Some of us were forced to leave school. It was a strange atmosphere, like the aftershock of an earthquake. Like everything else, it goes both ways.
People sit through class to class with their mind wondering off into oblivion. Teachers tried their best to get their attention but all in vain, most just give up and started talking to themselves. Another reason why I respect them and never want to be one of them.
Intellectuals walk around with their heads in the clouds, debating to themselves which scholarship course to take.
Others watch them bumble into desks, trip on their toes and fall down from the stairs in awe. Not really, but they wish. As for me? I wish them to get the hell out of MS as soon as possible. In a good way. :D
I, on the other hand, along with a hundred of hopefuls, are hanging on the edge. We are given hope, a tiny hope. A chance so slight one would be crazy to try and insane to let it pass. It drives us insane.
March pass is a compulsory act of patriotism for Lower Six in our school, apparently. To march in front of the Sultan is the highest honour a Bruneian could achieve, I believe. I also believe that unicorns lives with bigfoot at the end of the rainbow but what do I know, right?
So, as immediately as we were informed we had to practice, we were forced to start. It was fun, somehow. Funny, too. It just seems right to let lose your inner child. Even for a few minutes. I seem to hold a looser grip on it recently. Need to buy a tighter one soon.
I especially enjoyed my 'hanging out, let loose' time waiting for the march pass practice to start.
Oh, condolences to those who would have to leave us. Especially to Bahrin Asyikin, Ugama classmate for a year, friend for a lifetime. Farewell, ex-captain.
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