Nine o'clock.
It is nine in the evening but I am still wide awake. I sense movements from the other rooms—some studying for their Math 17 exams, but there are many who I know would spend the rest of the night talking, giggling, and laughing their heads out. But some are already asleep. They have perhaps already adapted to sleeping amidst the noise emanating from the corridor. I have yet to develop that ability. Four weeks seems like eternity here. It has been almost a month when I left my home a thousand kilometers away, in the southern part of the archipelago. I sometimes miss home, but never to the point of crying—I never cry. But there are those who secretly hide their tears of longing, and when I accidentally see them, they immediately wipe their tears, pretending they are tired. No, they’re not. They just miss their homes. Their families. I subconsciously flip the pages of the thick, heavy book. A required reading. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish it tonight, but I know I need some sleep.