Bumped into Cikgu Fadilah at buona vista MRT yesterday. Chance encounters always leave me slightly baffled, because I am always, against my better judgement, inclined to take meaning from it, believing in the whole nothing-is-coincidence concept. Cikgu looked mostly the same, and inquired after the rest of the batch. I told her what I knew. She seemed a little distracted, like maybe the remembrance of RJ was not pleasant at all. I think she hated RJ with a vengeance. I really don't blame her. I am conscious of my brain slowly whitewashing my JC years (especially when I see my sister doing Orientation stuff and I recall how fun Jaxoras was), but if I remember accurately, there were numerous moments of absolute fear, frustration, stupidity and bleakness.
I was just thinking the other day, how every little incident that happens, I try to fit into the big jigsaw that is life. How, at every turn of the time, I'm trying to figure out life. And yesterday, I was struck by the horrifying thought that I would still be figuring out life on my deathbed. But then maybe, life is about figuring out life, eh? I mean, religion can teach you one thing, but you still, somehow, gotta figure some things out for yourself. And man, if you know what I'm talking about, you'd know how exhausting it is. It's just one theory after another.
And now, I'm thinking, it's true about the cliche: hope is kind of the whole point. Because it can be bleak, bleak, bleak and ultra bleak, but as long as there's that glimmer of hope, that one shining ray of a better future, humanity does not give up. So, in line with my human nature and against calculated logic, I hope. And get disappointed. And hope again. Life in a nutshell, I guess.
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