I am reading an article upon witchcraft, womanhood and religion in the medieval time.
I assure you that you have no resemblance to the witches whatsoever.
But you just popped in my brain, in front of these snaky alphabets.
I miss you so much so much, that it hurts. Are you still alive, Em? If so, Where are you?

I like staying in the library. I can be alone nobly, covering my incompetence of making friends. I am an oyster in the library. the blankness and emptiness and loneliness are passed into oblivion once I am in that dead silence. books keep me busy. time goes easy. 

where are you emily fimer?

E.A.L.F

E.A.L.F

I type this in every morning, afternoon, evening and night since my decision to come to Scotland and departure from Nepal. 

We have facebook. We have the internet. I thought that would be enough. We are born in the age of internet after all, everything goes beyond boundary at neck-breaking speed. I felt secure when I left you. Because I had my heart in CUHK. Until I knew I was going to Scotland, I often thought that was the end of the story. It was merely a summer adventure. 

You said you were in Aberdeen. I am at St Andrews. Only four hours train. We have skype. Why you can be so far, and so close? Where are you? Time waves many particulars into oblivion, but you are still there. 

alright - as usual, this is just a phase, right? I will forget you blah blah and I will laugh at myself after a decade right? perhaps so. But for old's time sake, E.M, play it, play the Vienna Woods Waltz. I miss you. Tell me that even it was just a wishful summer adventure, please put a clear full stop for me. Let me know this time, I can frame an excuse again, for my failure and incompetence. I prefer a exclamation mark or full stop, to a question mark. 

Emily, Alice, Louis, Filmer. 

there are always quotas for how much one can write every day. 

if you are good looking - you may well be paid a closer attention by Muse, whose love are generous only with Casanova. 

Grumpy KS. 

a confession of a loser, again.

the cable car swinging slowly but rather steadily on the cloud, with a few people whom their face I can no longer remember, crawled on the route of the cloud. the train crushed the cable car into pieces. life and death is of a second and chances. I did not feel the pain, falling from the sky above cloud, my heart did not stop just as what I have heard. With a few indians, I touched on the soil of a jungle, People's teeth were ivory white, and their smile adorable, and swarthy skin mysterious. the rest I can't remember. I imagined so, now, I was looking for something. As usual there is no story, no point, no line, no people. This is not Kathmandu, I suggested myself quietly. Neither was this Switzerland. South Africa perhaps. A place where I've never been and know very little. It is five o clock now, I have not finished my essay which is due less than 24 hours.

Where the hell are you. there is no answer. Hide back into my mode, To be frank, I am just like anyone. Being serious about relationship is just a comfortable but lame excuse I can find for my failure and disability of attracting any girls. I am serious, I am just a fucking loser which has nothing to lose already, apart from my little piteous ego, which, does not worth a penny. Fuck me. ugliness is obviously a crime. no philosophy is going to defend that. we always do something different from what we say, after all, uh? 

LSE rejection.

A final rejection from London School of Economics came today, after over five months of waiting. I received the UCAS notification in the afternoon in my school computer room. Five applications to Cambridge, LSE, KCL, St Andrews and Birmingham, only St Andrews graciously offered me a place to read international relations. KCL is still considering my application at this moment, I assume. 

I borrow a lighter from my Vietnamese roommates, take out a bag of cigarette which has been long deserted in my drawer, and walked out of my room. It was windy, gloomy and chilly, just as the BBC weather mentioned earlier on today. I lighted up a fag, blowed out a lungful of deep frustration and discontent, listening to Tiesto. As usual I started launching a self-question and conversation as I did the Cambridge relentlessly threw me out of their door. Am I not good enough? Looking at my classmates, schoolmates, alas, the comparison makes me suffer. The frustration, again does not come from the rejection itself, but my repeated failure to hold the helm on my fate, which was, I believe always, hinted, very much on my face. My narrow forehead, symbolized dearth of luck in my youth. How can this be? I work terribly hard, I am passionate about knowledge, I try to be kind to everyone around me, I help people as much as I can. In fact, in January exam, I got pretty good grades too. From Cambridge, LSE to my insurance Birmingham, they all say no to me - that's not the key. Cambridge did not invite me for an interview whilst my unkind classmate with lower grades got one. My classmate from China, who interest in everything except knowledge, got an offer from LSE. Nodar, though he did not get an interview from Cambridge, with his far-from-ideal grades, is offered a place to read economics at LSE and UCL. ME? fuck me, the only loser who is rejected by almost all university.

Am I being ungrateful for what I have? Of course not. As I say I am not frustrated because of the rejections themselves, but the system and the randomness, which are, so unfair and never ever in my side. And to my further agony, I have proved that I am able to be as intelligent as a LSE and Cambridge candidate with my academic attitude and result, but Cambridge did not even give me a slightest interest and chance for me to prove for intelligent, and, whereas LSE rejected me. 

However, I have good faith in my attitude, my capability, my values, and my intelligence. It is their loss that they don't have me as a student. The fate is not very much in favour with me, it does not matter. It is just the beginning, I will never give up challenging myself, and all those clever capable people. Since I have confidence and faith in myself, I might lose this time, but I will come back after four years. With even more intelligence, wider knowledge, sharper critical thinking skills, same humble and curious heart to knowledge and people. This slight slip is not going to crumbled my will. I, Ng Ka Shek, swore with my honour, I will never give up until succeed. 

Whether KCL accepted me or not, I hope I will have a more lucid understanding about the randomness and unfairness with detachment to accept the result, whatever it will be. 

Listening to Johannes Brahms - Hungarian Dance 5, sitting on the window sill, looking up the starry night, lighting up a cigarette, was the celebration in my 19th birthday. Great.

Edward Gibbons - I was never less alone than while by myself.