The harsh gale that blew the little pig's houses of straw and twig has return for an encore, this time with different victims. But no matter where I run too, it follows my echoes and trails my fear lingering behind. And no matter where I cower, the breeze brings might so tremendous my meek personality shatters to fragments.

It doesn't stop there. They come, one by one, lined haphazardly like the commuters on the train platform ready to charge towards me. This coming week-the holidays, my birthday, the once conceived joy-brings none of that. A package of torturous activities lined side-by-side with no break in between. The seconds of breath inhaled constitute the measly amount of freedom left in my loose grasp. Juniors without essential equipment, unprepared materials, heavy workload that pile on continuously and the usual commitments to study with pressure building up, all in good time for the camp to begin tomorrow -.-

Gone my only longing to rest now. I ended up blogging here because that call woke me up. Nothing stays at rest; the world in perpetual pandemonium. Wars of conflict that ensue every hour, pathetic quarrels over materialistic ideals, a scrawl between a cat and a dog down by the park, a man cursing god for his misfortunes and down to that angsty boy journaling his regressive nature onto technology's blogging platform-those words carry no weight. What good can criticism bring should it leave no visible mark? Providing constructive feedback is one thing, reforming it is another. Everything seems to be a half-step process, or two midway terms but they are indispensable as a couple.