What Now?

'tis rare to actually have nothing to do on a Week 9 of your final semester. Not because you have nothing on your plate, but just that the sides are arranged neatly on the plate but the steak is still grilling on the pan.

I excelled, I failed

I chilled, I stressed

I enjoyed, I suffered

I dated, I broke a heart

I fell in love, I got hurt

I laughed, I cried

I smoked, I drank

I partied, I crashed

I was honest, I lied

I exaggerate, I played-down

What's after a degree? 

Postgraduate studies. 

Working life.

Travel.

Stay single. Cohabit. Get married.

Die. 

I wish grandpa were here. What would he say about me, to me?

I love to entertain a romanticised thought of my grandpa, whom I never knew. I'd like to think he's more forward thinking than those of his generation, partly because of how he was accepted my aunt's circumstances. He might actually encourage me to start drinking -- and maybe, drink more -- hard liquor. I fancy thinking myself as his only descendant who is like him: we don't have the Asian flush.

But it's true, I am the only one. Thus far. I think.

Prague and Istanbul are such faraway places that are so near in my daylight dreams. I'd like to go back to Bali, Siem Reap and Bangkok again. Alone. With friends. With a boyfriend, a fiance, a husband. 

What am I going to do now?

Of staying put and moving forward

Of standing idle and running away

Of loving deeper and breaking up

Of living sober and drinking harder

Of breath and breathless