by suu4leaf

I used to hate history (thanks to the high school history curriculum) but now I am literally yearning for it. Perhaps it is this voidness one oftentime feels about existence which makes one anxious looking for any trace of life and meaning in the history of man.

I am relapsed to this hateful state again – no incentive for performing my myriad duties, no impulse to write anything, dragging on with nothing particularly interesting to account for. I read and read, hoping that by reading the time out I would at least gain something at the end of the day. Sometimes I hate to be exhausting all my sentiments by overworking and sometimes I hate to leave my sentiments to enhaustion by an excess of leisure. Sometimes I would rather I am common enough to be satisfied with a full time job and a quiet life. Sometimes I would fear (genuinely) that I should end up like that, after all these endeavours to be anything but ordinary.

Some time ago I wrote my sentimental history. I was writing it and musing upon it and when I was finally done it was already 4am. Some time later, when I met up with Andy, he said if something is special about my book, it is that I do not indulge in romance (which, sadly, is the pleasure of the general public). Why do people like those kind of stories so much, he asked. I said Hong Kong people are too bored. Romances stimulate their senses and make them feel in this unfeeling city. Everything is so like what Huxley foretold in Brave New World! But Andy did not know, or did not understand, that kind of affection. Some read the book and find themselves weeping, not for a lost boyfriend, but for something more substantial and yet remote to this city. I guess I wrote the book because of the realization of the loss of that world and all those sentiments. And I think I wrote that sentimental history because I feel this void within me. I remember this theory of Optimum Level of Stimulation I read about in my ALevel Psychology and I never thought that this optimum level is so difficult to achieve within myself.

I said I could not write and yet I have written so much so far. It is raining outside and lightnings disrupt my thoughts. I wonder the softball practice tomorrow will be cancelled.

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