丁丁の家

I can't believe I was locked out of butler 301 at 9:00 pm while I was informed by the staff literally half an hour ago. I can't believe I spilled over oil on my white sweater again after I stained sisi's chair this afternoon. Why am I always so absent minded? It should be a good time to fix my attitude.

I was searching through Butler stacks 10th floor. It was quiet, damp, pressing with the smell of books. The familiar sense of longing and searching for solitude, literature, and words. Words to ponder, to think, and to remember. Somehow I winked at myself as if I could see my mirror image, a light and empty body that has been floating on the surface of self-contentment for almost three years. I stopped writing and reading a long time ago, and entered a world of triviality. It was two and half years filled with endless discussion about growing/shrinking boob size, endless complaint about the empty others, endless loging in and off facebook. It was addictive, to distant myself from true improvement. I had excuses, that those "improvements" I attained from learning and reading is just too impractical to survive. I did become more restless, to be wanting to be recognized and to prove myself. But to whom? My mother no longer has a good sense of my achievements and failure, things she used to have a clear quantified grasp. Perhaps I was indeed released from the subconsciousness to make her proud, or at least recognize my excellence. I wanted to do it now perhaps only to justify my lost eagerness for self-advancement.