The first thing my eyes caught sight on when I woke up this afternoon was the stuff opposite my bed, right up on my room wall:
The Things That Matter To Me.
I decided to name them: ‘the things that matter to me’.
Simple Plan was a band I looked up to since my teen years. Chuck Comeau, the drummer, had always been that inspiration to me with all his ‘Role Model’ shirts. Or how the band and their foundation have always been contributing to non-profit and advocacy organisations, especially against suicidal or drug-addicted teens.
The photographs of when I was young serve to remind me of that intimate and innocent side to everyone; how I miss those happy days. Days of goofing around with my monkey siblings or my beloved cousins. Days in secondary school when I had the most fun in all my nineteen years of living. I’ve got posters that say “Believe in yourself” or “Persevere and succeed” – things I got from this very precious primary school teacher, who went by the name of Ms Michelle.
And then there is the jigsaw puzzle of Pooh Bear and friends – one I lovingly dust every month – made by a few of my dearly missed buddies from Victoria School. There is even an extremely lame riddle scribbled on the back of the frame: “Why did Tigger and Piglet fall into the toilet bowl?” Haha. Secondary 3 days… If there was ever a teleporting machine, I would take a risk and head back to when I was sweet fifteen.
Everyone’s growing up way too quickly. Rwarr.
On the day I turn 21, I want to have a gathering with all the people I love – past, present and future – because I think that’s the only time (and excuse) for me to be greedy for once, eh?
I was supposed to go meet the Rovers for their night cycling event last night. I even promised Jonathan his bottle of Gatorade Rain. But I fell asleep after working 6 hours on the tiresome BD data analysis. Josh even offered to drive me to where they were. So much for work.
Mom made me feel worse by dropping 300 bucks on my table, saying she’ll give me another 150 bucks more at the end of the month. I rarely asked her for cash ever since I’ve started work. And when she started complaining about me getting money from her last month, I don’t know why I felt so much of a burden to her. What nonsense, I know. But I was so upset with the things she said to me in the past month, I hadn’t spoken to her in more than a week.
Urgh.
Where will Daddy lead me to this time?
