Of pens and pages

You want to know something, i used to have a lot to write about, yeah seriously. When i was in boarding school, our English teacher made everyone start a journal. You're supposed to write in it everyday but of course, being the "busy" kind, the whole class usually writes in it when our teacher asks us to hand it in. Usually she asks for our journals at the end of the month and she'll say she expects about 28 entries and everyone will negotiate till we only have to do about 18. I have never owned a diary or a journal or anything of the sort so i was like very excited and i wrote in it like i was supposed to, everyday.. and i didn't write an entry a day... i wrote entries and entries per day.

I mean, come to think of it, what did i have so much to write about, i was in a boarding school where only so much can happen. And i didn't write in that square brown book with blanks to fill in nama.. subjek.. kelas, no, i bought a real nice book with flowers on the cover, a hard cover at that. And i never knew i could have so much peace by just scribbling my thoughts from page to page. The friggin point is i had a lot of things to say and god knows who read those things. I leave it under my desk in class and there were a few guys in my class who are like sumpah naughty and they'd like treat your stuff like it was theirs to begin with. Journals were, above all, their favourite target. First thing i was writing in my journal about this friend of mine and the next thing i knew they were dictating my own sentences to me, so basically everyone had a public diary, though i have told them only certain people were allowed to read my entries.

So like eventually the things i wrote in my journal became less personal and i sort of wrote things people would like to read you know since i realized that my English teacher isn't the only one i'm supposed to entertain, i wrote stories and facts and oh boy i couldn't stop, i wrote in other people's journals as well, i stayed up at night to write and write and flipped pages and pages and it was then i had a whim to write a book and i've always held that as something i will do after high school. I wish i had written a book then because honestly, i don't think i can do it anymore. i'm out of ideas, really, even with so much going on here, i have nothing to say. nada. zip. It's like the pen i'm holding died. That totally sucks. Writing used to be something that made me at ease and i didn't need anyone to talk to, i just needed my pen and my journal. It was the thing that soothed my soul... and oh i haven't told you about the hell of a boarding school i was in, in later posts lah okay. yeah so there. i used to have a lot to write about.

woooh, letting all this out really feels good :)