Among all the things I had to finish today, I spent a couple of minutes questioning myself. About what I really want, what I can do, and what I will fulfill.
Although I dont like to admit it, there are bumps and obstacles on the road, and every time I run into one of them, the tires of my car get worn down a little bit. And when my confidence becomes too little to bolster the weight on my shoulder, life suddenly looks gloomy and unpleasant. So I have to stop, take a deep breath, and calm down my disorganized thoughts.
I remember that once before, I used to tell you to hold on to your belief, no matter how difficult it gets. It isn't that easy after all, and I shouldn't speak like that again. When trouble comes in, it disturbs all the plans I've made, and my resolve shatters so easily like a sheet of glass. If I lose my motivation, time slips away quickly, and when I finally wake up again, there's nothing to do but regret. I've had enough of that, and now it's time for a change.
If plans are not meant to work out, then I'll just stop making them altogether. All I can remember is that I made a promise to you to come back, when it's all said and done. A promise is a promise. As I think of this, it feels like I am injected with new life force, and I can keep going with a refreshed mind and body. Thank you for giving me this strength.
It's the end of february, and the lovely seasons are already waving to us. Just a little big longer, we'll be able to enjoy the best time of the year. So try your best, to live your life with a sweet smile.

I see a crack on the wall, and maybe it signals something to come.
Night is dark as usual. I can't see clearly outside, nor do I intend to. There's no need for such a thing. I need to finish what I couldn't complete during the day, but honestly, nothing else is necesary.
So I lower the curtain, and cut out every tie with the outside world. Once again I'm in a world all to myself. Lonely as it may be, this feeling doesn't seem too bad after all. It reminds me of the old days a little, like how I wanted myself to be.
I close my eyes for a moment, and flashbacks rush through my memory. I knew it all along, excessive emotions can't help anything; but how did I become this sentimental in the first place? I laugh at others for being a slave to their irrationality, but am I the same as them after all?
Fortune cookie, you lied to me. You told me I'm going in the right direction, but how come too much just seems hopelessly wrong? If the pressure on my back gets too overwhelming, I'll just unload some of the cargos, no matter how precious they might be. And once they're not with me, I have no intention to get them back.
At this minute, when everything around falls into deep sleep, I raise my chin up one more time. Looking into the mirror, I find nothing else behind my blood-shot eyes, except for that sheer resolve, the absolute vow I once made. If the road is going to be tough, then let my mind be tougher, my body stronger, and my will more determined. I know where the path leads to, and once I had a reason to go there. I will do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means losing the purpose along the way.

I feel like writing something down, yet my fingers get stuck on the keyboard. As my thoughts are paused one time after another, time slips away quietly, just like it always does.
As of now, one exam is done, and it is nice to take a deep breath without any worries. There are more to come, like the never ceasing troubles in life, but just for tonight, it isn't the time to think about any of that. I myself am aware that some work is still left halfway done, and some hasn't even been started yet. But even though I'm throwing away my sense of direction for a moment, this guilty conscience is in complete charge of me, and I'm a bit tired to resist anything for now.
A couple of friends left right after the exam, claiming this was going to be the best night of the week. After wishing them safety and a fabulous time, I strode back to my room. I'm not disciplined enough to refrain from having fun during weekdays, but getting myself drunk and unconscious seems rather pointless. Alcohol can erase the pain for the moment, much alike to tranquilizers, but after I come back to my senses, nothing changes, and I waste more time doing nothing at all but recovering from the blackout. It's not my time to have vacations yet.
Sometimes I wonder, if preparing for an exam consumes much time and wears down my patience, then afterwards, can I be liberated from such unpleasant experience? It's true everything has been completed, and I'm not idiotic enough to worry about what I did wrong, but what else is there to do? I'm not going to touch this subject for a while, and if I promise myself not to worry about any work, then this night, as far as it goes, feels a bit too uneventful. This emptiness begins to clog up in my mind, or is it that so much burden is released at once and my mind has been vacuumed?
Occasionally, it almost seems like my spirit can drift outside of my body, and look down at myself from the angle above. A part of me will then laugh at my own indolence:while analyzing every possible scenario, I don't like putting my hands into making any of them happen. Too much thinking can kill an opportunity, and I've tasted it more than once. Despite the jeer from the intelligent side of me, the spirit alone can't alter the reality; as soon as it gets frustrated at my own powerlessness, it returns to where it comes from, and everything turns back to normal once more. This sudden self-awareness, followed by rendering myself back to oblivion, becomes a recurring dream, if not nightmare, of my life.
I hear another mocking from inside. Why would I even write these things down? If it's not for my own cowardice and indecisiveness, then I'm simply pathetic, using "recording the daily thoughts" as an excuse to keep sleeping in my dark cocoon. But a cocoon will eventually be broken apart. The only remaining question, is whether I'm the one who'll crack it open, or it's someone else smashing it into pieces. I can see it's coming, and if a storm is destined to wash away my old self, then let it be as fierce as it can.

Cactus, the only plant you can find in deserts. Where nothing else can survive the climate, it roots deep into the soil, through the sand, and stands straight under the scorching sunlight.
I admit cactus isn't the best looking among all kinds of living things. At least, it has a tough exterior: the thorns on its body are sharper than those of the roses. It doesn't have the scent of roses either, nor does it possess the height of a pine tree. A cactus is short and it lives alone: you rarely can find a large cluster of them stucking together, they may be close to each other, but everyone holds his own ground. In a place of nothing but sand, over a small dune, the sight of its small body is already covered by the monotonic yellowness. Yet it provides the only green color you can see, only in this lifeless realm. It inhabits the world that isn't supposed to tolerate anybody, and struggles against all odds to keep its head held high.
Travelers appreciate cactus more than anyone else. When their water bottles are drained with nothing left, when the sun is evaporating their bodies, when hopelessness starts to sink in under their skin, a cactus may be the last straw for them to leave the place alive. Inside the green plant, there's the sweet and life-saving juice, the product of extracting everything possible from underground. Without the cactus in the deserts, who knows how many more people would have failed to escape from this living hell. A cactus does not shed its leaves when winter comes. By the time spring comes, other trees will enjoy the rain from heaven and leaves can be grown again; cactus does not have enough water to spare. So it's always leafless, and always green.
Want to keep a cactus, for its will of life is stronger than my own. Looking into the winter night, I can already hear the footsteps of the spring.

It's good to see some sunshine this early in the morning. Everything is quiet and static, except for a few birds passing through and the steam coming out of the chimneys. If I could, I will take a photo of it and bring it home. Too bad I have too much stuff to do right now.
I don't like this cold weather, because it seems like I don't have much will to fight on. Trapped in this winter, I feel myself being a bit despicable; how can I be brought down by something minor like this? Is it really impossible to plan the future, or am I just inept at planning? It looks like whatever I do, the pieces of the puzzle won't come together and form a complete picture. I'm tired and not even interested to find out where it went wrong. I just know that I have to make my way back to you somehow. Whatever happens after that, I'll leave it to God.
Too much thinking always gets me nowhere at all. I can't afford wasting this precious Saturday morning, and here it shall stop at this instant. Before going back to the never-ending homework, I'll wish you good luck with everything. It's true I've been unreachable for a while, but it doesn't mean that my prayer goes away.