How much of a friend have i been these past years? that is a question i ask myself, but yet am unable to answer. all these years, just co existing with other people, under the loose heading of friends. always looked back at the past though i wish i didn't. always regretting some of the choices i made. always wondering how different life would be in a different setting, a different time. what if i chose to go to Victoria as a strongly wanted to in p6, since alot of my classmates were headed for there? definitely different friends, during experiences, and most likely, a different me.

have i been truthful to my friends? to a certain extent yes, but yet not absolutely. remaining silent about things does come under that i suppose. so when you do read this, please ask yourself, firstly whether i have been a real friend to you, and secondly, whether you have been a real friend to others.

my powers of ShortTermMemory(STM) are catching up. from schoolwork where i find it hard to remember facts of which i have no interest, to even my passion where sometimes my mind just goes blank when trying to recall something i know well. STM even stretches out to my memories of the past, which remain hazy and sometimes blank. bit and pieces here and there, but nothing more. what i try to recall and picture seem so unreal, as if they have never occurred before. so do the sad moments, gone within a day or two, forgotten within a few days.

was watching da chang jin today while eating dinner, and a particular scene was etched into my mind, at least for that period of time. it was about one character whose last wish before dying was to eat "summer grains", a type of rice once more before she died. those grains were given to her to eat when she was still young by her brother, who died shortly after. perhaps in the past, i would have brushed the scene aside, saying that rice was just rice. but now, perhaps from the general weariness of life or just another year added on, i begin to see the significance of plain, simple, rice and its true meaning, of how those grains could bring out true happiness before walking with death. appreciated the moment when she got to taste those grains once more.

inner conflict like Hedda Gabler, always wishing my life was more memorable through out of the way experiences, but yet still conforming to society. what if i took art in the past and art now? a whole of difference perhaps.