It's six past midnight. You're on Twitter, on Facebook, on Tumblr, on Youtube, on various websites. You shrug and browse some more, thinking you still have enough time. Your readings are laying on one side and you turn a blind eye, coffee sitting innocently on the coaster. You're reading something else–something non-academic. You say, this is just a break, as if you're trying to convince yourself (and you are trying to convince yourself).

It's six past one o'clock in the morning. You reluctantly close all your other tabs and go back to your readings. Four lines in, you open iTunes and play soft instrumentals. They did say that listening to classical music would boost concentration. You pull up the playlist and Erik Satie's Gymnopédie No. 1 plays on your speakers. You concentrate for a while, until you feel your eyelids drooping and you immediately stop that playlist and pull out your collection of EDM tracks. It wakes you up, but it also distracts you from finishing anything.

It's six past two o'clock in the morning. You managed to get half-way through your readings and you applaud yourself for that. You convince yourself that you deserve a break so you go to the kitchen and make yourself a nice bowl of instant noodles–ramyeon so you stay awake. Your lips feel hot from the temperature and spiciness of the noodles and you get distracted. Your readings are lying helplessly on your bed and you're still battling against sleeping.

It's six past three o'clock in the morning. You finally finished the readings and started on the actual paper. You get tense because the deadline is closing in and you have just started on your paper. So you make yourself another cup of coffee and type word upon word. You have no idea if it makes sense because all you see now are jumbled words. You mentally curse yourself for always thinking that you work best under pressure or cramming because of all the results it gives you.

It's six past four o'clock in the morning. You're close to finishing the whole thing. But it frustrates you because the paper still lacked one page as indicated by the required number of pages. You curse out loud this time and type even more glorified bullshit just to reach the minimum number of pages required for the paper. It doesn't make even more sense to you, but you hope it does to your professor. You could barely understand the reading material and you force yourself to wring out more words. You finally reach the required number of pages and sigh in relief. Never forgetting to put in your References page (in APA format, of course), you immediately save the paper. You check it over once again for grammar edits and once satisfied (even if you could barely understand anything because you're so tired), you save it once more. You copy the file to a hard drive and send it to your own personal e-mail (because you're that paranoid), then crash on the bed. Before going to sleep, you set your alarm for school. Doesn't matter if you only get three hours of sleep–as long as you get to class and have a spotless attendance record. That, and you liked the class.

A week later, you get your paper. You grin put your paper in your bag. A 98% perfect was written in red ink, along with one of the most comprehensive papers on this subject I've ever read. Keep up the good work! scrawled on the side.

That four-hour insanity was definitely worth it.

It was in the middle of October when you met.

Rain was pouring heavily in the city, and people were rushing about with their different-coloured umbrellas. She was on the sidewalk, waiting for the lights to go green, when you approached her. Rain was steadily pouring heavier and you asked if she could share her umbrella with you—at least until you cross the street and go your separate ways. She says yes right away and you thank your lucky stars that she didn't turn you away. The light goes green and the both of you cross the street. It was there where you noticed that the school uniform she was wearing was the same uniform you saw at the all-girls high school beside yours. She offers to share her umbrella with you until the both of you get to school. Apparently, she noticed the uniform you wore as well. You invite her to coffee, if only to thank her for the trouble she has to go through. She accepts and you wonder how no one else is blinded by her dazzling smile.

One coffee date turned to countless weekend hangouts. Your mom noticed how happier you seem when you talk about her, and your best friend constantly teases you about her. You ignore them, content that you found a new friend. Nature takes its course and that friendship turns into something more. So you court her, and it was a long affair. A lot of your friends tell you to give up, but you don't listen because you know she's worth it. It takes a year and half before she finally says yes. The feeling of elation, of finally being able to call her yours and her finally being able to call you hers was incomparable.

But you have fights. Other couples say its normal, so you take it all in stride. But one day, the fight was bad. It was so bad, you called your friends and had a boys-only day. One of them breaks the pact and brings a female friend. You and the unexpected female guest got to talking and found you had so many things in common. When it was time to part ways, you exchange numbers and promises of talking to each other again. There's a feeling at the pit of your stomach—that this wasn't right. But you ignore it and chalk it up to the residual anger from earlier on.

But things escalate from there and you start hating yourself because you know you're cheating on her. You don't deserve her, you don't deserve her, you don't deserve her keeps playing in your head, and you think of breaking up. But you're selfish and you don't want to let her go, don't want to let either of them go. So you continue on, pretending that everything's fine.

One day, she catches you with the other girl. You couldn't run after her because you deserve this, you deserve this, you deserve this. You think you should finally be happy because she's far away from you now. You won't be able to hurt her anymore. That if you can't be happy, then at least she will be. You even sever your ties with the other girl because the both of you know that you don't love her. Sometimes, you see her from your classroom window. Your schools were literally only separated by a wall and your chest goes tight when you catch her. After graduation, you never see each other again.

Three years later, you're in the same situation as to when you first met her. The only thing that was missing was her. You see someone waiting on the sidewalk and you gather enough courage to ask if she could share her umbrella with you, just until you cross the street. What you didn't expect that she would be there. Both of you are shocked, and you wonder if fate was rearing its ugly head and threw this at you. No matter how much you convince yourself, you've never really gotten over her.

You're caught off guard when she gives you a smile and says yes. You take back what you said about fate and thank your lucky stars once more. As soon as you get to the other side of the street, you thank her. You think about asking her out for coffee, just to catch up on old times, when she does that dazzling smile again.

Only, it wasn't directed to you anymore. You turn and see a man about your age, only taller and tan (compared to your pale complexion). She hastily says goodbye to you and you see her run up to the guy and give him a kiss. You wonder why anyone didn't hear your heart shatter to pieces when it was so loud. Your chest tightens, like when you broke up with her, except this was worse. So you walk away because you can't stomach seeing her so happy without you.

You deserve this. You deserve this. You deserve this.

I remember the first time I was introduced to TVXQ. 

It was back in 2006 and I was still a high school sophomore. I always watch this Japanese program and they happened to be guests there. I was struck by Kim Jaejoong's outrageously blond hair and let's face it: he's a visual shock. Then I started wondering who this person was. It was then that I noticed the four other guys with him. Lo and behold, Shim Changmin had long, light brown hair and one of the most captivating eyes I have ever seen. That, and he was ridiculously tall. Then he smiled and his eyes became mismatched, it was absolutely adorable. Of course, I didn't know their names then and because I was curious as to who these five good-looking people where, I started researching about them.

What shocked me was that they weren't even Japanese: they were Korean.

It's safe to say that I was thoroughly impressed that they could speak Japanese so naturally. It was through my obsessive research about them that I learned of their Korean and Japanese debuts, their shows, scandals, and (unfortunately) their accidents, among others. I spent many sleepless nights switching from studying for school and catching up on TVXQ.

TVXQ were literally my gateway to K-Pop.

Fast forward two years and the five gods from the East were suddenly having a Korean comeback with Mirotic. TVXQ have transformed into men. Their comeback single was literally stuck in my head for three weeks. I celebrated with them for every performance even if I am a flight away from the guys.

But of course, there will always be bumps on the road.

The lawsuit happened and like any other fan, I was hurt. I can't imagine how worse it would for the boys. But what really hurt me more were harsh words being thrown left and right. It made me angry when people spat in TVXQ's (Yunho and Changmin) faces for being "traitorous bastards". When they painted the two as "SM slaves" and many other even more degrading names. It was brutal and I lashed out.

But time passes and suddenly, we're here. 11 years down the road and we're still going strong. I don't think I could really put in words how special TVXQ is to me. They've opened a lot of doors for me without realising it, making me achieve my dreams one by one.

So all I can really say to TVXQ is thank you and I love you. Thank you for being my inspirations, my motivation, my guardians. Thank you for being with me at my most challenging times and my greatest achievements.

Thank you and I love you. 11 years down, forever to go.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

That tick-tock sound of the clock on your table is pissing you off, if only because it reminds me you how much time you have left before everything goes south. You had half a mind to take out the batteries, but you remember how much you needed it to tell you how much time was left.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You mentally applaud yourself for having enough self-control to not hurl that clock all the way across the room. That, and that you can still continue having an internal monologue and attempt to finish what needs to be done by noon. Your close friends don't really know this habit of yours and your best friends know that when you get like this, they have to leave you alone.

Beep.

Your phone goes off and you wonder who in their right mind would send you a message when you're in this state? You frown when you see that it's a message from someone you didn't really want to hear from. Literally the person you pretended didn't exist in your world. So you ignore it, pretending once more that he didn't exist, and went back to the task at hand. This paper won't write itself, no matter how much you will it to happen.

I got you under my skin.

You wonder if your iTunes picked today of all days to mock you. You put your iTunes on shuffle because music always did help you with your tasks. At the moment, however, it was being a total jerk and played songs that you know would most probably put you in even more of a rush. The six cups of caffeine plus all the deadline anxiety has you on edge. You were about the click Pause when you remembered you hate the sound of the ticking clock even more. So you sigh and just let iTunes win this round.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

You smile in satisfaction. The paper was finally finished and it was now printing. But what really made your day is that you still had an hour to spare, just enough time to grab a bite from the convenience store a few walks from your dorm. Paper done, bags ready, freshly showered and a smile on your face, you start walking to class.

You always did work best under pressure.

Running. Running. The earthy scent of the grass fills your nose, but you keep on running. You pass the ball, you run some more. Waiting. Waiting for the ball again. And you run again. You see it; the end. The frame. You run, even if your legs are screaming for you to stop. But you can't. Because this is life-or-death. And you take the shot. It curves. You pray to every deity that the ball goes in. And the screams deafen you. The ball went in. It's a goal. A goal.

Fun, yes? That's football for you. The euphoria of finally scoring a goal. Because even getting past the midfield and the defense is hard. But when you do get past it, you charge. The last line of defense, the goalkeeper, is your biggest enemy. When the GK is nervous, scoring a goal is easy. But when the GK is someone like Germany's Manuel Neuer (who won't even let you past the box, let alone the goal post), you have to be creative. You have to rely on your footwork. You have to read the GK.

But the thrill doesn't stop at the field. The thrill goes forth and infects everyone watching. From the bleachers, from the people watching from television sets, from people on the other side of the world, staying up at ungodly hours, streaming the game from their laptops and mobile devices. Emotions run high, and the game is under a blanket of passion. Screams and curses could be heard. You sincerely hope for a win by your team. 87 minutes in, you wish the score would remain at a draw. Because you'd rather take a draw than a loss.

For the people living on the other side of the world, sacrifice is almost always on their menu. And sacrifice always meant staying awake at two in the morning, streaming the game from their laptops or mobile devices. It was the only way they could keep up. They didn't want to go behind on the game. When a game like El Clasíco is on, one forgoes sleep. You want to see who has the better offense and defense. You want to see if Lionel Messi will get past the Real Madrid defenders with his knack for finding lapses, or if Cristiano Ronaldo will take the first goal with his fancy footwork and incredible speed. Or when the English Premier League is having one of the greatest games scheduled, and you're excited to see Oscar donning the blue uniform of Chelsea once more. And what of the Bundesliga? When Marco Reus, using his knowledge of Mario Götze's play, runs past him and takes the shot that propels Dortmund the lead. And you can see the unpredictability and genius of Jürgen Klopp through his coaching.

Transfer windows are both a fan's dream and nightmare. Sometimes, the players you love are the ones getting transferred or sold. Imagine the despair Chelsea fans went through when Frank Lampard was not renewing his contract with the Blues and went on to sign with Manchester City (myself included). Or the Madridistas' sadness when Özil was transferred from Real Madrid to Arsenal (again, myself included). Or the anger of some of the hardcore BVB fans when Mario Götze and Robert Lewandowski transferred from Dortmund to the rival team, Bayern München. But when something goes wrong, something good will replace it. The pain of losing one of your best players is still there. But you have new players to look forward to.

And in the midst of all this craziness, you find yourself feeling so at home with a team, considering them to be part of your family. Or you consider yourself part of their family. In any case, you're so emotionally-invested in the game.

The coin is tossed, the whistle blows, and the ball is kicked. The game starts and you lose yourself in the game all over again.

The darkness is seductive. It's always been calling you, beckoning you to come hither. There always was darkness inside you, caged and sleeping—waiting for the right moment to pounce. But you pay it no heed, because that's something you can always ignore. And you will never pay attention to it. You had no plans to.

You were held in the light by something. You had a lifeline and you'd do anything to keep it. You don't what you'd do if the line gets broken or worse, severed. You sincerely hope it doesn't, because you're not ready to let go—not just yet. You hold on, because that's what you know you can do best.

But Fate was a harsh goddess. She refused you your lifeline, breaking it in front of you and you can never fix it again. And then there was just so much anger. The darkness inside you was cackling in glee, then it breaks out of its cage. Suddenly, it grips your heart. It holds on to it and whispers in your ear about power. About what you can do with the darkness beside you. Because the darkness will always follow you. Hurt and defeated, you succumb to it, feeling a great surge of power come inside you as your last bit of humanity left.

For a time, you forgot who you once were. The darkness was a constant companion, and you found yourself destroying anything that reminded you of the light. Your guard is always up, never letting in anything or anyone take away that one thing that made you who you are: the shadows. But what they didn't know—what they will never know—is how much you still regret letting Fate take away your lifeline. You let yourself drown in memories, refusing to let even darkness get to it.

At some point in your life, there comes another piece of a puzzle that you have long forgotten. You forgot that even the darkness has ways to betray you. That even if you thought you had everything handled, you see that you never will. Because darkness has always been playing you, using you to keep everything in the black blanket. And one day, the darkness thought it best to let you fall. You fight it—because you always did fight everything that came in your way—until eventually, you get the light back.

But with it comes a price. You have lived far too long in the darkness. The light was suddenly too much for you to handle. But instead of going against it, you welcome it. You know it was time. And you smile because suddenly, your lifeline appears in front of you, basking in a silvery glow. You reach out and take it.

And then, you disappear.

This work of creative writing was inspired by Star Wars, particularly Anakin Skywalker. Star Wars is the work of George Lucas. No copyright infringement intended.

In this fast-paced world where you don't have time to breathe, you go into deals or jobs that looked fine on the first look, until you realise you're drowning in the sea and no one there to offer their hand for your to hold on to. And for a good period, you have no idea where you are. Just that you're in something that you took without seeing the bigger picture. And now, you feel stuck, suffocated, and on the verge of a panic attack because you have no idea what you're doing.

And when you finally make a decision, you're afraid. You're afraid because you have no idea where you'll be after you leave - just that you're finally leaving. Leaving is going to give you room to breathe. It's going to give you the freedom you so desperately crave. But that doesn't mean the trepidation isn't there. The apprehension of the unknown. The confusion of going out of the sea and diving into the ocean.

Yet you can't help but be excited at the same time. The unknown that you were so worried about also gives you the sense of thrill that you absolutely love. You still have no idea what you're doing, but this time, freedom is right beside you. And you're using whatever you have gained from the past to guide you. Because you know better this time. Because you have matured. Funnily enough, you have no idea if you're really supposed to be apprehensive and excited at the same time. And it adds to the mish-mash of emotions waiting to burst out. Confusion adds into the mix, and you wonder (again) why you're still in one piece. Why, with every emotion in your pores, a combustion has yet to happen.

But the ocean is getting bluer. And you're getting more and more interested about what lies beneath it. You're worried for your safety, but your curious mind won't let you rest; not until you get the answers you're looking for.