Zee. 22. Singapore. Fine Art student. Procrastinator. Occasional insomniac. My favourite kind of gifts come in the form of books. Writing keeps me sane. Art keeps me busy. Music is universal. Europe is the place to be.

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Oh, where do I start? It's been long since my last entry, I believe. Initially, my plan was to update at the start of the new year but apparently it wasn't achieved. I told myself that I'd find just the right layout when I see it. So, if you might ask, is this the layout I've been looking for? My answer would be not quite. I'm quite fussy over the littlest of things and fickle-minded, too.

That's just how I get myself all confused to the point of aggravation. But let's not delve into that matter any deeper now; I have far more important things on my mind. I know by typing out the content of the following paragraph could be depressing for others (it's somewhat depressing for me, too. It's hard not to forget the pained, saddened, tear-stained faces of the people I know in school. It's truly heartbreaking.) but I think that it's better I get it off of my chest rather than keeping it all bottled up inside of me for fear it's going to have a negative impact on me. And I don't plan on having to manage any mental-related issue this year or the year after this or ever.

On Thursday, the twenty-fourth of January, had been the release of the GCE 'O' Level result. I was nervous, of course but my friends told me not to worry about it; they were confident I was able to make it. Whereas that ought to calm my nerves down, it didn't. I was worried for them, my friends that aren't exactly my friends. I don't know how exactly I mean by that but I really was worried. I didn't stick around any longer than necessary because seeing one with tears was just enough. I went back to my mother with the result slip in my hand and a smile on my face. I did manage to pass all but one: Math. Well, I didn't exactly get an F9 for that but getting an E8 is just as good as an F. There are very few courses offered to me because of failing that subject.

That was when my mind seemed to clear up its fogs and mists.

I just know what I'm supposed to do.

It's either better that grade or do something that I have no absolute interest in at all for the rest of my life.

And I chose the former. Sure, I'll be nineteen by the time I have myself enrolled in a school; sure I'll be a year late; sure I'm spending one whole year studying only Math; sure I'll feel like I'm already a failure but you know what my brother said? He said it's okay being a year late. You want NAFA and that course, you do another year of Math.

And together with my mother's words of encouragement, those had been the only words I needed to hear to keep me going forth. Furthermore, I'm convinced that I'm doing the right thing when my Math teacher said that I should do another year of Math because really, the only problem is my Math grade.

That's the obstacle I need to overcome.

On the fourteenth of February is my first class in the Academy.