short message service.

for the past 5 days, my mum's cousin and her husband have been staying with us.
aka, my brother and i had to give up our room so they'd have a place to stay.
not that i'm grumbling a lot, really.
i've long learnt not to, cos what follows is a whole mass of nags that will clump at your ear for days if i just mouth a single complaint.
this is the weapon that parents hold.

so now my little sleep area is on my mattress on the floor beside my sister's bed.
i'm not the most adaptable of ppl, so change where i sleep and i'm all disoriented. i have this ill, fuzzy feeling like i'm home sick...like i'm sleeping in some chalet or hotel (far from it).
everyday i wake to a higher ceiling and the tap of phone buttons.
my sister's sending an sms. and when i typed that i started to wonder, what does sms even stand for?
- short message service.

why would people need to send each other short messages? why not long ones?
it must be because we all feel the need to prod first and watch the signs before stepping forward. we're all so scared. so after many prods, i think i'm now one feet and four toes into it. only one little toe is logical now.
now, after a long weekend i'm feeling lazy and idea-less. think of stories with alien, object and animal eh? MY BRAIN IS DEAD.

on sunday, i felt this sudden urge to see all my dear secondary school friends.
ah pang, sq, qy, hz, aud, meiyin, kl, xm...how far am i. how busy they are. how the end of the year never feels the same anymore ever since i came to poly.
holidays never smell as promising anymore, and dates are always scheduled when everyone's free, and i'm not. christmas is shorter and the new year is a deep shaky breathe of what lies ahead, nearer than ever.
it must sound mad, but i'm jealous how they get to study crazy hard for the A lvls together, and the euphoria they must share when it's all over and done with.
when they're all done, i'll have graphite dust at the sides of my palm, squiggling into the night with the bored whirr of the ceiling fan prodding quiet eyes that dart occasionally to that forgotten phone.

who am i kidding when i say there's nothing more to it?