I just realised that I screwed my entire notebook by indicating the week wrongly. So this week’s supposed to be called recess week, not week 7. Well, I should be relieved to know that I have ample time to scrutinize my Chinese Studies text for my project. Those words… someone bring me a microscope, please.
And I’m the ultimate bag of excuses, armed with the extraordinary ability to evade anything with a little click of my finger, and a little excuse to top it off. I even find excuses to run away from myself, which is starting to sound freaky, like Dr. Jekyll running away from Mr. Hyde. Too much pondering on JJ Lin’s very disturbing Killa MV, I guess.
Of course, I’m poring over my indecisiveness to get my tresses coloured. I used to stand firm by the belief that being natural is being me, free of make-up and artificial conditioning to stand out from the crowd. But I have seemed to change, choosing to cower and dodge those seemingly doubtful stares which seemed to pierce even without the intent to do so. To stay the same may be an outright staging of protest against the fake and plastic. To harbour the thought of changing may either be a form of camouflage or a sign of cowardice. To make the change may be the ultimatum of failure to conquer.
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