Happiness.

I got accepted into 2 of the 3 universities i applied in. As of the 3rd one, which is University of Indonesia (the number 1 uni in this country), the entrance result hasn't came up yet. As odd as it seems, I so truly hope I don't get in. I have my own reasons, one of them being it is located in Jakarta. One more year living in this goddamn city and under the same goddamn roof as my parents and I'll go nuts.

Anyways, the 2 universities are:

Bandung Institute of Technology, faculty of Geo Engineering. I failed in getting into architecture. But who cares, this uni's still on the top 3 and ranks number 1 for all its technological studies in Indonesia.

University of Padjadjaran, faculty of Psychology. I took Science Studies in highschool, and most unis in Indonesia categorize Psychology as a Social Study. Therefore, unless I took extra study hours to master Social Studies, I wouldn't be able to get into Psychology major. This uni here is one of the very few unis that mostly accept students of Science Studies in its Faculty of Psychology, because the subjects rely more on the brain pattern of those who study Science in highschool. Plus, this uni's still on the top 10, I think.

I don't mean to boast, but toldja I was gonna be glorious ;)

Dear Asshole,

It’s almost midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, thinking what exactly went wrong. I ponder on several obvious questions: Haven’t my gestures been obvious enough to make you realize how I really feel about you? Are you just too naïve that you’re not able to read my signs? Or maybe you did read them, but you refuse to give back because you’re simply not attracted? How do you honestly feel about me?

I’ve never been one of an expert to read signals, and yours aren’t exactly the easy type to understand. Your gestures are vague, subtle, yet also unpredictable and highly indecipherable. It feels like I have to screw my hopeless brain around to break down everything you did and said to finally reach the end conclusion of your inmost feeling which is hidden deep beneath.

I recount every little sweet gesture that had happened in the past: The gentle stroke on my hair, the little squeeze on my fingers, the random message asking me how I am, the midnight chats filled with pretty words and enthusiasm to be in each other’s company… Those were the things that constantly gave me hopes. Those were the things that made me believe our feelings are mutual, everything but a one way street or a dead end, accepted and positively responded.

Then I recount every little unpleasant gesture: The way you always spelled my name wrong, the other short midnight chats where it seemed like you didn’t even feel like talking… Suddenly all lingering hopes are crushed into bits and pieces. The lights I’ve taken refuge in before are dimmed. The fulfilling warmth is replaced by a bitter cold, like the changing of a softly beaming dusk into a dead silence of the night.

You keep repeating those conflicting signals. After a while I begin to see a pattern: Once you get my hopes up, you’ll manage to succeed in getting them down again, and so on. You’ve trapped me into a vicious circle of never-ending uncertainties. I may know your pattern by now, but I still can’t predict what kind of message is it exactly you’re trying to send out.

The worst thing is now I don’t even know what to do. I’m not sure whether I should keep going forward, because I’m scared that you’ve never felt the same way in the first place. But I’m also unwilling to give up just yet, afraid that I might be wasting something very valuable yet sill unseen, which is the possibility of a returned feeling.

If only you’d speak it out. I need a certainty, an assurance, no more than several words. The road is only diverged into two; either “I’m into you as well” or “I’m simply not into you.”

It’s already midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, aching from how much I miss you. Aching from the fact that I haven’t got you quite figured out yet, furthermore from the fact that I probably never will.

Aching from the mere possibility of a broken-heart.

I hate you with all my life.

Dear the one single person I hate the most in the whole wide world,

The day you die, I’m going to scream HALELUYA with tears of joy and unrestrained delights. I won’t even be there at your funeral; I’d be too busy having fun in my new-found life without you fucking with it. I won’t even say a word of prayer. Well, except for that HALELUYA I mentioned above, although not directed to you, but as a sign of MY victory. And from that day on, as your deceased body rot into the earth, every single memory of you will also be erased from my mind, because I don’t want traces of your unwanted existence lingering about my brain. And then I will descend into a long life full of ease, freedom, and happiness, simply because you’re no longer a part of it.

With dignified regards,
Your ultimate hater

The most stupidest conversation ever.

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
fuck man i feel so sorry for bella

adilla caulfield says:
why whats up

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i talked to bella at rick's party
and she was like sad

adilla caulfield says:
sad abt emilio?
dw man she got edward and jacob
lmao

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
yeh sad abt emilio
LMFAO wtf

adilla caulfield says:
omg dont tell me u did not get the joke

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i didnt.

adilla caulfield says:
WTFFFF

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
is that sumthin to do with twilight?

adilla caulfield says:
ARE U FUCKING DUMB
YESSSSS
JESUS
ok anyways
did u comfort her

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i got that
but da joke wasnt funny
lol

adilla caulfield says:
hahahahah i know who wouldve laughed over twilight jokes anyway

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
HHHHHHHHHHH
I GOT IT NOW
COS HER NAME IS BELLA
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAH

adilla caulfield says:
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
LMFAO bro

adilla caulfield says:
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE

Low expectations, behold.

For this week only, I'm scared of the coming of Thursday. Thursday brings an announcement. The kind of announcement that will determine my future, my fate, my sanity: University entrance test results. (Bandung Institution of Technology to be precise, the one place I've been longing to study in my whole student life)


Just now a friend told me that the results are gonna come up on Thursday. As soon as I heard that I felt nervous, anxious, scared shitless. It was like somebody just told me the world's going to end on Thursday instead of December 21st, 2012. Or the world MIGHT end on Thursday, which is even worse because uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news isn't exactly everybody's piece of heaven.

So here I am, sweats dripping down my balls, cold shivers running through my spine, restless thoughts jigging around my wit. Some people told me to pray, but I don't want to look stupid in front of God, thank you very much. Honestly, I seldom pray, only when I'm told to and I'm not able to refuse (my Dad is a super devoted Muslim). So if I start praying just because I need a miracle to happen, not because the whole initiative comes from the very depth of my own consciousness, I'm afraid that will make me a hypocrite, a conformist.

Some other told me to keep up the positive thinking. I said, how the fuck can I stay positive when everyday shit happens, people die from war and famine, old fat priests molest virgin little girls, corruptors stay out of jail while licking their fingers off their loot, Miley Cyrus exists, and all the glittery rainbows and singing mermaids are crumbling down into a pile of messy debris we all call humanity...

Anyways, apparently this one friend of mine came up with the solution as how to stay calm during uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news (in this case, Thursday). Ever since she said those magical sentences a few weeks ago, they kept ringing through my ears until now, "You, know, being a pessimist isn't such a bad thing after all. 'Coz the less you expect, the lower chance of disappointment you behold."


Enough said, i will keep my expectations down until Thursday, and also any living days forward. This way, if i get accepted, unexpected happiness will I richly indulge myself in. But if i don't get accepted, I won't even think of attempting suicide. Why should I, when I'm already prepared to be disappointed from the very start :)

Caffeine makes my brain go round.

The only thing that keeps me awake prior to the National Final Examination days is a simple magical substance called Caffeine. Two shots everyday, double if needed. That way I'm able to regain control over the droopiness that intensifies every single lecture second and turn them into long, exhausting, nerves-numbing hours. Without caffeine, I'm like a walking dead who'd rather sleep through every moment of educational purposes than dealing with them with wide open eyes.

Precisely two hours after a cup of coffee is digested, I feel myself rejuvenated. I can feel drop of sweet liquidated Caffeine oozing through my blood like some Godly invented drugs. I feel them knocking over every cell in my body, slapping and tapping and raping them until they scream with delight and unrestrained excitement.

My hypersensitivity therefore is also summoned. I can focus like a hawk, aware of every single strand of information that perches in my brain. I sit on the front row of the class, digesting mathematical equations and grammatical propositions and chemical formulas as if they are pretty unique snowflakes that fall and melt and soundlessly seep into the ground.

The one thing that grows less as I devoted myself more into the stupefying ways of Caffeine is positive thoughts. Caffeine over-excites the pattern of my brain, making my mind paces back and forth like a confused little pig in a closed box. It's so hard to keep a positive thinking at bay that way, along with the constant furious drumming of the heart as if wanting to get out of its ribcage. The restless heart makes the organs of the body tired, and positive thoughts don't tend to come upon a depleted, over-occupied brain.

18 is such an ugly number.

Being 18 is like standing transfixed in an intersection in which there's only one road to take, only you're still not sure where each of them leads and what are the consequences of your actions. The catch is, there's no going back. The lazy days are gone, and now you're at the peak of having to have to choose.

Moreover, the line that separates adulthood and childhood have never been this hazy before. You keep convincing yourselves that right as the clock turns 12, you ARE an adult. But deep down you know you can't turn from a childish, carefree 17 year old into a mature, responsible 18 year old overnight.

When you turn 18, people drastically turn over their eyes against you. You no longer have The Unforgivably Cute Recklessness that people under 18 are born with. When you're 17 and do something wrong, they'd easily say "It's okay, you'll learn from your mistakes." But when you're 18 and do something wrong, they'd give you a massive hard time by stating that you've never learned from your mistakes, and they'd blame it all on you for wasting all your youth in vain.

They say the upside about turning 18 is that you're legal. The question is, legal for what?? Legal for getting in some club, buying some booze, getting fucked up? Well guess what, unless you live in some tight-ass country in the 19th century or something, right now everybody can do all those things above without having to be 18. Rules are overrated, and so is "legality".

Eight-teen, if reversed, is also a hideous number in its numeral row of -teen (13-19). 81 is probably the oldest you can get before you die. 17, if reversed, is 71, and by that age most people would probably be at their top of fondness for you as a grandma/pa. But then when you turn 81, they just get bored of taking care of you and their visits are getting more seldom and practically you'll rot yourself in your deathbed. As for 19 (91), I doubt you'd still be alive by then, so that does not really count. Whatever.

Last but not least, for some people 18 could be a wonderful number, especially since it stands for 1'm 8lessed (to have lived until this moment). Nevertheless it's ugly for me since it also represents 1inglorious 8itch.

I'm turning into an 1nglorious 8itch in about 3 hours and 19 minutes. Happy Fucking Birthday.