Doodling on my photocopies is my favorite pastime. This I do especially inside the class. It makes me wander far away from the classland, mentally. Sometimes, nonsense, thoughtless things will randomly appear in my notes. But there are also times things that I think witty and smart comes out from me and were actually documented. Oh, I feel I’m a genius…in a way. It’s only myself who appreciates what I write, what I do, what I think. No one understands me, I think. And even I don’t understand myself sometimes. I compare myself to Bubble Boy sometimes, the boy who was placed inside a giant glass so that he won’t be harmed because he doesn’t have an immune system. I think unconsciously I had put my very own bubble glass around me when I was little. Yes you can’t see it but I can feel it. I got shield, man! Or so I thought. I’m numb. I’m heartless. I’m pokerfaced.

I envy those who can say whatever they want to say. Feel what they are feeling. Act what they feel like acting. I’m not that type. I’m well-guarded. Too shielded even I can’t penetrate me. I think I’m sort of pathetic. I can’t say what’s on my mind. I all keep it to myself. I don’t cry all the time. The most upsetting thing could only make me cry…or the funniest thing, too. Yeah, I’m pathetic. I can’t sympathize for myself but for Edward Cole and Carter Chambers I could cry for them. Even I felt for Grace when her dad Harry decided to save the world. It sounds pathetic enough for me for I can cry because of those movies but not for myself!

I hate myself when I don’t respond well. I don’t like it when I don’t speak when I should. I even more abhor me when I don’t treat people nicely. I don’t care what people around me think when I shoo them away.

Would you please help me say what I write? Would you please burst my bubble for me? Would you please let me make my own saddest movie ever so I could cry for myself? Would you please slap my face when I hurt someone?

I badly need that. It might wake me up from my own dreamland and walk through the roads of real life.