6:18 PM
It's over.

4.25 PM
Why can't I get through to her?
Or is she just not picking up the phone?

My phone's dying.
Called Mom, she's at RTC.
Called Cara, she's at home and she asked her maid "What's for dinner" 4 times for me.
Returned Angel's missed call.
No answer.
I'm reading Melina's message with much indifference but with gratitude.
Octopus Tako Pachi was eaten for the sake of eating.
Now I have a prata black pepper sausage in my left grip.
I saunter through Wisma Atria aimlessly even though I'm looking for the taxi stand, telling myself that I only spend necessary money on food when I'm down.
I follow a family into the water closet.

4.00 PM
I've collected my sundress at Topshop and have also gotten myself a 10% discount with Shaun's card.
I'm holding the paperbag on one hand and my wallet and ipod in the other.
I figure that it'd do my tired mind good to have some food.

But I can't forget what you said.

Wanted Toast but figured that the man at the cafe would think I'm weird if I ate there alone.
Besides, I already went there with Cara yesterday.
I didn't care much about the man though, I just don't want to make frequent trips to Toast, their prices being quite steep for a masala chicken wrap with added GST.
So I take the escalator down, which smells like Pepper Lunch.
My stomach flips.

5.15 PM
I'm on 174.
I'm repeating Fragile by Delta Goodrem over and over again.
I'm killing myself inside.
A man with a shaved head who looks to be around 40 years old is clad in hiphop-themed clothes with white slippers.
He is sitting next to me, talking to himself.
He seems mad.
He is singing songs in a weird language and he makes himself laugh.
I listen but I do not despise him.
I shift to another seat because sitting at the gangway makes me feel uncomfortable.
The man does not look at me, he carries on singing his songs.
He laughs hysterically.
But I still do not despise him.

Sometimes I feel like I'm alone..
Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong..
Sometimes I feel so frail, so small
Sometimes I feel vulnerable
Sometimes I feel..
A little fragile.. Oh-oh..
A little fragile..

I imagine how his life must be.
He holds a packet of cigarettes, Marlboro to be exact.
I wish I could be him for a moment.
I used to wish I could be Natalie Portman for a day.
Now I just want to be him.

I'm on 174.
He's laughing.
And I'm crying.
Silently.
It portrays a kind of emotion- a hard pang of pain.
Your voice is dry.

I'm on 174.
I feel like I've died.

5.30 PM
I pick myself up and hold onto the bus' metal bars for support.
Both physically and mentally.
I get off 174.
Fragile by Delta Goodrem.
I scamper across the street and drag my feet all the way back home.
Mom greets me at the door and looks at the way I wear my socks.
"You wear them halfway?"
"No, they're loose."
My bag is a burden.
I hit the light switch and I hear the electricity surge through the bulb.
I lean my bag against the bed and pick up the classical guitar.
I strum Heart Of Worship.
Damn it.

3 plus, whatever time it is PM
I know you guys are gone.
I know, I know and I recoil.
Shaun is with me, searching for my lost art sketches.
I say lots of 'Fuck' and pray at the same time.
Shaun is discussing the possibilities of what could have happened to my sketches.
My spirit's breaking down.
So caught in this motion and I'm overcome.

3 plus, whatever time it is PM
I know you have to cross the road.
I'm wishing that at least you'd try to be somebody for me.
Somebody who does say "It's okay Liling" and stays back to be there for a friend.
But it's Melina.
And maybe I just have to take another disappointment again.

6.47 PM
Lord, I'm still waiting.
Whatever the devil takes from me, You will give back.
I trust You.
You will give it back.

Seven days a week,
But my life has just begun.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.
I'll only get killed again.

6:18 PM
It's over.

4.25 PM
Why can't I get through to her?
Or is she just not picking up the phone?

My phone's dying.
Called Mom, she's at RTC.
Called Cara, she's at home and she asked her maid "What's for dinner" 4 times for me.
Returned Angel's missed call.
No answer.
I'm reading Melina's message with much indifference but with gratitude.
Octopus Tako Pachi was eaten for the sake of eating.
Now I have a prata black pepper sausage in my left grip.
I saunter through Wisma Atria aimlessly even though I'm looking for the taxi stand, telling myself that I only spend necessary money on food when I'm down.
I follow a family into the water closet.

4.00 PM
I've collected my sundress at Topshop and have also gotten myself a 10% discount with Shaun's card.
I'm holding the paperbag on one hand and my wallet and ipod in the other.
I figure that it'd do my tired mind good to have some food.

But I can't forget what you said.

Wanted Toast but figured that the man at the cafe would think I'm weird if I ate there alone.
Besides, I already went there with Cara yesterday.
I didn't care much about the man though, I just don't want to make frequent trips to Toast, their prices being quite steep for a masala chicken wrap with added GST.
So I take the escalator down, which smells like Pepper Lunch.
My stomach flips.

5.15 PM
I'm on 174.
I'm repeating Fragile by Delta Goodrem over and over again.
I'm killing myself inside.
A man with a shaved head who looks to be around 40 years old is clad in hiphop-themed clothes with white slippers.
He is sitting next to me, talking to himself.
He seems mad.
He is singing songs in a weird language and he makes himself laugh.
I listen but I do not despise him.
I shift to another seat because sitting at the gangway makes me feel uncomfortable.
The man does not look at me, he carries on singing his songs.
He laughs hysterically.
But I still do not despise him.

Sometimes I feel like I'm alone..
Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong..
Sometimes I feel so frail, so small
Sometimes I feel vulnerable
Sometimes I feel..
A little fragile.. Oh-oh..
A little fragile..

I imagine how his life must be.
He holds a packet of cigarettes, Marlboro to be exact.
I wish I could be him for a moment.
I used to wish I could be Natalie Portman for a day.
Now I just want to be him.

I'm on 174.
He's laughing.
And I'm crying.
Silently.
It portrays a kind of emotion- a hard pang of pain.
Your voice is dry.

I'm on 174.
I feel like I've died.

5.30 PM
I pick myself up and hold onto the bus' metal bars for support.
Both physically and mentally.
I get off 174.
Fragile by Delta Goodrem.
I scamper across the street and drag my feet all the way back home.
Mom greets me at the door and looks at the way I wear my socks.
"You wear them halfway?"
"No, they're loose."
My bag is a burden.
I hit the light switch and I hear the electricity surge through the bulb.
I lean my bag against the bed and pick up the classical guitar.
I strum Heart Of Worship.
Damn it.

3 plus, whatever time it is PM
I know you guys are gone.
I know, I know and I recoil.
Shaun is with me, searching for my lost art sketches.
I say lots of 'Fuck' and pray at the same time.
Shaun is discussing the possibilities of what could have happened to my sketches.
My spirit's breaking down.
So caught in this motion and I'm overcome.

3 plus, whatever time it is PM
I know you have to cross the road.
I'm wishing that at least you'd try to be somebody for me.
Somebody who does say "It's okay Liling" and stays back to be there for a friend.
But it's Melina.
And maybe I just have to take another disappointment again.

6.47 PM
Lord, I'm still waiting.
Whatever the devil takes from me, You will give back.
I trust You.
You will give it back.

Seven days a week,
But my life has just begun.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.
I'll only get killed again.