Dim reflection.

Photo probably doesn’t have any real meaning. I just liked it. It doesn’t have the same feel as in person, I guess I needed a larger angle.

Though I guess if you look deep enough into anything, there are always potential hidden meanings.

So if you’re that kind of person, feel free to ponder.

Actually, think about it a bit more than you usually would. For me. Because even if the story always has hidden beauty to it, reality works differently. So give it an extra second or two. To make up for reality’s lack of it.

Mid-term Woes

I scored a whooping 30% on a mid-term 2 weeks ago.

It felt bad.


I don’t think I’ve scored this low on a mid-term… ever. I did score pretty badly (somewhere between 10-40%) on some quizzes for a linguistics course back at SFU, but it wasn’t a mid-term or an exam. Though if I count large exams, IB exams would have been one that I scored pretty badly on. On the topic of IB exams and other important grade 12 related tasks, I’ve almost convinced myself of my own lie. It was actually very hard for me to realize that the story I remembered so fondly, was not what had actually happened. I guess 12th grade me would be pretty happy with this result. In some ways, I’ve successfully hidden away the things I don’t want myself to remember. I’ve continued to built that lie by telling it others. So much so that at some point my actually memory of the situations will fade, and all I’ll have left is the false truth I’ve created.

Wow. Sounds like some anime-level plot.

Back to that mid-term.

I definitely knew I was going to do poorly when I walked into that exam room not knowing the rules for income tax well enough. In fact, I knew I wasn’t going to do that great when I didn’t print out the practice mid-term the night before to try. The professor definitely seemed like the type who would make the actual exam very similar to that of the practice. It would be to congratulate the students who actually did the practice mid-term. I wasn’t one of them.

I just wrote my last mid-term on Monday.

It was the first exam in a long time that I did not finish.

I can’t be having all these negative “firsts in a long time” happen in the same term that I need to get better grades in. How else do I pull up my average above 80%, if I can’t even bring my term average to 80%?

I finished the first 3 questions pretty smoothly, I think. While smoothly doesn’t exactly mean ‘on-time’ or ‘ahead of schedule’, I definitely think that I scored majority of those questions correct. The last one though, I did not really review. I remember a few hours before, looking at a practice question of the same type and thinking “he’s definitely going to test us on this”. I did review that question, but not well enough. I was completely lost for what to actually do. I knew in theory how the accounts were supposed to balance, what adjustments to make, and what kind of losses to carry forward, but I wasn’t sure on the details. So I ended up not finishing the last question. The only redeeming thing here would be that only 2 students finished the exam early. Everyone else was stuck in that room with me until the last second. I’m really praying for some scaling here.

Megan Chua

God damn this girl.

This is actually driving me insane.

First, a little side tracking before I get into this mess.

I did not originally want to write anything about this topic out on a blog. It was a bundle of unclear, unfinished thoughts, feelings, and ideals all tied together in the a present I’d like to call self-improvement. Telling the story and trying to reveal those thoughts and feelings weren’t portraying the kind of image I wanted for myself. In fact, I was a little bit afraid of the possible realization that I might actually romantically like this person, despite having no communication in over 8 years. Or at least, afraid of others having that kind of opinion. Though, I definitely am afraid of coming to that conclusion. It would actually lead to another question of “Why?”, and I really, really, really, don’t want to know the answer for that. I deeply fear the answer is not something I want it to be.

I don’t remember when I became so affixed with what my image was like to others. I guess it initially started out in secondary school, when things changed. No longer was I, a 7th grader, the oldest group of kids in the small park that was my elementary school. I also wasn’t surrounded by a familiar setting, familiar faces, or familiar feelings. Never had the feeling of loneliness and out-of-place-ness (???) been so strong. Never had I wished so much for “I hope people like me”, or questioned whether my previous friends liked me. I don’t remember how in the world I ever made new friends, or kept my old ones. Thinking back, I was kind of a massive dick to some of my old elementary school friends. In fact, thinking about it now, to them my personality probably changed a lot. No wonder we drifted apart. Applying this thinking to today, I see that I’m repeating my cycle, only in much larger lake than the pond I was in before.

But slowly I began to differentiate between different groups. I had slowly built up a different image of myself for different friend groups. I felt like I had to keep those images there. It’s not like those images of myself were fake, but it would be a bit rude to myself to think that the image was all I ever was. Even a perpetually happy person can feel sadness, and a person who doesn’t seem to care can actually care.

I think I’m getting a bit too far from where I originally started.

Let’s get back to Megan.

Actually, I don’t even know where to start.

Since my last update, I haven’t seen her again. Not in Sauder at least. I guess she isn’t taking any courses here, and it was just a one-time thing. It really makes me wonder, what was she doing here? Anyways.

I actually started to look around. At the other students walk around, that is. I never really paid much attention to that before, the corridor and the mess of people was just an obstacle in my way to my classroom. Now, walking through the mess of students was my goal, and getting to my class was just an means to that end. As mentioned before, I never saw her again. I walked by the same spots at around the same time as when I saw her the previous times, but to no avail.

Eventually, I started to think of the times last year I would see her on the bus. It would be past 3pm, and not at a time directly following a class ending. So it gave me an idea. I would wait until it was past 3 pm, and a little past the rush, and then go take the 480. I had no other real option to try, so why not?

The first day I tried it, it was a Monday, about 2 weeks ago. I got off class at 3:50, already past 3pm. I waited a little bit until 4:15, past the rush. I walked towards the 480 bus stop. I thought to myself that there was no way I would find her like this, and that I should try another way. Normally, this is where I would’ve thought “…and I should give up”, but I didn’t. In hindsight, that is kind of scary. Why in the world am I so obsessed with meeting this girl? Actually, I don’t want to know. I’ve already gone over why.

Back to the story.

So I’m walking by the 480 bus stop at around 4:23pm on a Monday. It’s a bit dark out, but I can see everyone’s face just fine, I should be able to see her if she’s there. “So if she’s there, what am I going to do/say? I guess I’ll just pretend like I just happened to walk here, notice her, and ask if she’s Megan, and if she remembers me. I’ll have to pretend like I’m not actually basically half-stalking this person, and it was just a matter of pure chance.” My thoughts were cut off by my sudden realization that, wait, is that actually Megan in line? Holy shit. I am not prepared for this. What to do I do? Uh… just walk and pretend you didn’t see her!

And so I did.

I just continued to walk by the 480 stop, and went back to the familiar 41 stop I’ve been getting used to the last few months.


As hard as I tried to rationalize to myself that I wasn’t ready (I had a plan), I could’ve mistaken someone else for her (I really don’t think so), and that I would have another chance next week (I didn’t), it wouldn’t work. I got scared and ran off. Couldn’t face a challenge. The same stupid thing I’ve been wanting to do for the last few years. Every once and a while I get that opportunity, then I run away from it. The unknown is really scary. After missing the chance, I would always feel so much shame. How can I even wake up tomorrow, knowing that today I couldn’t even say a word?

But, I had a chance next week. So I set an alarm that rings every Monday at 4:15 pm.

I didn’t. I had a meeting with my group members at 5pm.

But I would have another chance the week after that.

I didn’t. I had a mid-term this Monday at 7pm.

But I will have a chance next Monday, right?


I don’t know. I think my group is going to meet that time on Monday again.

But I’ll have the week after that?

Don’t bet on it.

But… I still don’t know why I want to talk to her so badly.

Well, I guess I do.

Part of it is definitely the guilt of not saying a single thing over 8 years. She was definitely a close friend to me in elementary school.

This is a bit hard to say, but part of it has to be that I did have a crush on her for majority of elementary school.

And then the last part… I don’t know. Or I don’t want to know.

Maybe it’s the hope of all these weird feelings being mutual. Maybe it’s the dream of wanting someone else to talk to. Maybe it’s the joy of nostalgia. Maybe it’s the wish for something more.

I don’t know. But none of those sound too great. They all just seem to point at me missing something. Missing a goal, the past, some choice emotions.

I don’t know if I should make the promise that I’ll say something to this girl by the end of the school year. I don’t know if I’ll even get that much time. I don’t know if I can make that commitment. If I’ll run again when I get another chance, if I get another chance. I don’t know if she’ll even remember me. Wouldn’t it be something else if I spent all this time agonizing over someone who doesn’t remember me? I don’t know.

Actually, I do know. I should make the promise to myself to do it. But I don’t know if I will do it.

This is where I would end off with “only time will tell”, but that just shows how I don’t care enough to commit to this stupid goal. So I guess I have to commit. There’s no other way to end this blog without feeling miserable about myself and my thoughts. But at least I got them out there, maybe.


Bright reflection.

I hereby promise to myself and my ego that I will say hello to Megan the next time I see her again.

No expiry date.