Square Head

I see little stars dancing over my fingers. They are yellow and they look oddly like those cute Digi men from the Fu-Yoh ads you see on TV. They run across my digits and jump on the keys and make cute little snorting noises. I take a magnifying glass and peer closer, and on the underbelly of the keyboard lies mooncake crumbs and pieces of chipsmore that I've gorged on. Fat content. Carbohydratesproteinfatfatfat.

It's late at night now, my mental capacities are on full alert. Just got off the phone with a friend. The type of conversation that is, you know, filled with quick comebacks, wit, lots of laughter. And looking out at darkness, dotted with orbs of light. Here and there. In the distance a car honk screeches. Somebody shouts in hokkien: "GO TAKE YOUR BATH NOW!" I curl under the desk.

Something is wrong with me. 11:58, and I'm dedicating a blog post to my heightened senses. I've semester exams next week, fourteen days of sitting uncomfortable on a yellow chair, faced with questions I can't even begin to tackle. Square deadline is next Friday. I am supposed to be writing an article now. I am high. Not scared. Flying above the orbs of light and melting to places smaller than the underside of my desk.

Eat me. Drink me.

What are academic marks when compared to living in this state?

I'll need to wake up soon. And then reality will hit and I'll need coffee. Till then, the breathless thrill of freedom.