I was always the first to come. Always with the occasional blue moons. Before recently, I'd let out a huge cry due to the chill of the airconditioner and tug my jacket closer to me; smiling a bit at how the chill reminds me that I'd better get used to it if I was to study abroad in the future.

It was always that red table with the equally red chairs attached to it. It was a good place, I dare say, if one is to ignore how chilly one could get sitting at that spot for too long. You could observe everyone in the hub yet stay hidden for possible trouble because of the stairs that blocked our spot if you were to look out from the outside.

I remember how thick and new the red paint looked like as it gleamed under the light that shone through the walls of glass. Now it had acquired a weathered look from having bits of paints sticking to our belongings - as if its a way of marking us as theirs. In a sense, maybe it had because now we stayed at that spot.

A loud yawn, an untroubled sigh. I had the freedom to do anything inside that windowed room before someone else enters. No control in voices, no control in movement. Basically no judgement. Of course everything is limited because I'm alone, not to mentioned half-asleep, so I'd browsed through the net while secretly cursing at how slow the internet is taking, even though I'd guessed that maybe its because the staffroom that I used the net from is still silent and void of teachers.

I stared ahead the room. The multicoloured tables lay quietly while waiting for their ritual-based owners. The room felt distanced and sleepy, mirroring what I felt at that time. Yet even with the lingering emptiness, there is always that relaxing and melancholic feel like taking a deep breath outside at 6.30 am in the morning.

I'd listen to the songs and sing along until finally a looming figure from the outside silenced me and now truly prepare myself for the day ahead.

The swing of hard, transparent doors. The clickity clack of the girls' "breaking-laws" high heel-ed shoes. I'm immersing myself to become my public self. People say that the person that you act when you're alone is the real you, however, even though I act differently when I'm with my friends, I still regard that 'public me' as me. Yes, I'm acknowledging to personas as myself. They are both of my true self.

More people enters. I felt a figure slumped a bag beside me and sits across it. A happy morning greeting. I arranged my lips to a smile. I replied the greeting with the same attitude. Hi. How did your revision go? A daily routine. I indulged myself more into my public persona, a bellowing laugh, an overly used grin. Most people would say I lost myself into that facade, but how do you lost into something that is already you?

I stared ahead the room. The multicoloured tables barely had enough room for the piles of textbooks and bulky schoolbags. The room buzzed with a morning excitement; much like that warmth that grew in my tummy when my friend laughed at my joke. Every table were taken up by students cramming last minute information before their exams that starts in another 20 minutes.

Last minute exchange of facts, a wish of good luck. My eyes searched over a sea of heads until I see a familiar figure. A smile and another wish of good luck. Would he know that his wish never failed in making my insides change colour to a shade brighter? Even with the countless of luck wished by equally numbered friends, you know there's always a few student's wishes that meant more to you than any other.

a/n: not really used to uaing a first person's perspective. Not planned so its more of a rant with a messy structure and theme. Nevertheless i kind of enjoyed reliving those feelings and such. I'll try my best to keep a better prepared piece of work that is still about the everyday things in my life and written in a fiction style. I wish I'd have a dslr. I rarely take picrures anymore so my inspiration has been running low.

Labels: emotions, everyday stuff with a twist, life

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