I can’t even write what I want to share now. I’m scribbling things to describe what I really felt but the next minutes I delete them. They are too crappy. They won’t even inspire. They are just products of my resentments. Are they even worth sharing? No! Delete.
I’m starting another paragraph which is of cooler and relaxed approach. One, two, three sentences then reread. This is pathetic. I am lying to myself just so to create a better article for the readers. Do these illustrate my real sentiments now? No! Delete again.
Then, pause. Well, I am not even mad or am I? I’m just annoyed of the fact that I am feeling this feeling now. Why can’t I just shrug it off and say “Mai pen rai Krup” (It’s alright. No problem). Why can’t I just laugh about it and charge it to experience or say next time again. Why can’t I just seem to digest that this is their system? Didn’t I tell myself before that I better join ’em because I can’t beat ’em? Yes I did! I told myself that for several times but here I am again.
Am I too conceited? Maybe I am! Because I’m counting the efforts I exerted for making that particular speech. Because I still cannot get over that I spent several sleepless nights to come up with a better contest piece so we can compete fairly with other schools. Or maybe not. Don’t I have the right to feel this way when I gave that piece two months ago to make sure that the contestant will have much much time to memorize? Am I not entitled to feel even just a slight rage when I learned that until now not even a single part of that speech is memorized and worst nobody even cared but me?
Dead air. I’m lost of words again. This whole thing just blocked the writer’s brain in me. I better be in bed now. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll wake up in the right side of the bed and will have a change of emotion.
Then I’ll regain my inspiration to write on happy thoughts and happy moments and happy feelings instead of this thing called…