Imagine

After I completed my STPM, I realised with horrible sense that I have completely lost the ability to write in English, and at the same time I have failed to improve my English with the same burning passion I was had.

Perhaps there's no motivation for me to do so. Back when I was form 4, I had SPM, specifically GCE-O grade, to aim for. After SPM completion, I have MUET, one exam I swear I must achieve at least a Band 4, and with great struggle due to a simultaneous STPM exam, I managed to scrape through Band 5 by achieving a mere 220.

Now, I have a lost of aim. A sense of emptiness that drives me further. I know one day I'll regain my passion, but right now I have lost it, and sadly I couldn't retrace it.

Perchance it's good. It allows me to have a break from everything. Right now, all I am concerned about is indulging in reading, and I did.

Reading is one of the greatest passion I have, and one that'll never fade for a foreseeable future. You know why? Well, I think I'm going to flatter myself for once - I have good visualisation.

Whenever I read a book, I attempt to let myself be absorbed into the book, to make myself a part of the fictitious world and as a passerby witnessing the ongoing events that are transpiring in the novel. The change of setting allows me to assume the identity of a jumper, where I could be one place at a time, and when a event terminates for once, I'll jump to another setting, viewing a story that is simultaneously happening at a different place.

I like this ability of mine. It perhaps ain't a unique one, but it certainly is one I have. That's also why I am better at narrative essay. When I allowed myself to be absorbed, I'll remember every events that transpired, and they'll etch in my memory as a gum that stuck at the sole of your shoes. It allows me to write with the same elaboration but perhapsess interesting and beautiful as I have not possessed the ability to write as wonderful as the talented writers out there who always publish books to feed the hungry souls like me.

Every time a writer narrates something, my imagination will start to go wild. If a writer begins to describe a countryside, I'll begin to recall what I saw in kampung, but with imports of Western elements. I imagine a streets with bungalows, all without fence and with beautiful porches. I imagine a boy cycling on the street, wearing an attire and helmet he probably bought with every money he has. I imagine a few ladies watering their plants in the garden, or men with green fingers doing some planting. Perhaps I'll see a few people bringing their pets for a stroll, a few cars driving on the road. A wonderful weather with nice sky and weak sunlight. Refreshing air that brings everything alive in the place, and a temperature so comfortable it makes living there such an amazing one.

Imagination. You need to utilise well because it is one that everyone has but lays dormant until something triggers it to be wildly active. I have triggered mine, and I attempt to trigger it further so that it gives me more pleasure while reading. It is one with unknown potential, but one that appears to never stop expanding.