Last night I had the stark realisation that I had only two days to do a 2500 word essay and to finish mugging for my first exam. Tis sufficient to say that I was not too pleased with the entire chain of events leading up to it. Mainly because it was my own darn fault for taking too long to do the other essay (one and a half months to be exact), too much time wasted with diddling on the computer keyboard, fiddling with HTML and computer games, and too much thinking submerged in the throes of paranoia.

Oh well, things are not quite that lost as yet. I have done a couple of drafts on this essay already� it is just going to be� tedious. I�m more worried about my exam actually. I spent a whole heap of time reading my notes and assembling them and it is only now that I realised that I need only to have actually concentrated on one fifth of the entire collection, if not less. I�m in trouble, yes I am.

The other thing is Peach. Which leads up to the BF. Which goes on to my own questioning of my self worth.

Peach called again on Saturday. She was in a really horrible mood exacerbated by the fact that she just quarrelled with her mom over her state. And somehow, I just got sick and tired of her whining. I told her that I was having exams, and I asked her why she never called when she was happy. She said I was just being picky and cruel to her. Couldn�t I understand?

I retorted that I was just tired of being only there when she had no guy around. And then� The conversation degenerated into a screaming match. I shudder to think what the neighbours thought. And that is in itself a major part of my problem. I care too much about other people�s opinions.

In any case, because both of us were very close once upon a time, we knew exactly where to hit close to home. I called Peach an insecure idiot and she retaliated with "SPG". I called her a religious hypocrite, a poseur, a slut, and told her to shove it (in less than pretty terms). That barb about her being sluttish hurt, I know. Peach has the same girlish fantasy as I do. To be happily married, which is why I think she succumbs so easily to men and their sweet words. I know. They always promise to marry her.

And I think that was the last straw that broke the camel�s back. That really did. She went quiet. Too quiet. And then the storm broke. She told me she rather sleep with ten Chinese guys than get it on with one kwei-lo. She told me that I was sexually repressed and to go get laid and asked me what I was saving it. After all, I would be branded a slut anyway because of my BF. She slammed the phone down after that. I cried. I really did.

I don�t have a Pinkerton syndrome. I don�t. I love my BF not because of his skin colour but what he is inside. And I always thought all my friends knew that. I always thought that it was the minority who thought like that, and sometimes it does seem like that. But sometimes, it seems like the whole world is racist, insensitive and cruel. I know I sound really vehement, but sometimes people loose their tongues and those wagging tongues become knives with thoughtless, sweeping generalisations.

I lost a few acquaintances after meeting with the BF, and sometimes I do tell myself that I�m better off without those narrow minded idiots. And sometimes I believe it. But rejection always hurts. I think I�m too needy. Sweet Teeth says I�m too needy and starved for love. I think so too.

And I am truly contrite for what I said. There isn�t an excuse, I know. And the really terrible thing about the whole incident? I am disillusioned about myself. Deep down inside of me is someone who still holds a really old fashioned view of virginity and the sanctity of it. While in the general day to day view of life I believe that I believe in "to each his own", I am horrified at the reality that I am suppressing inside.