Today I waited three hours in the cold for the Greyhound to go back home; the bus was late. I don't remember exactly how many times I told myself to just go back to Lester and go home next weekend instead. But I didn't do it. I wanted a weekend of peace and rest.

After mom's wonderful dinner, I dived straight into the books again to prepare for MFE in March. My repetitive clicks on my calculator were interrupted by a light knock on the door, and as I turned around in my rotating seat, I was greeted by a motherly smile and a plate of fruits.

She leaned over my shoulder to see what I was studying, and quickly withdrew in disgust at the sight of the sheets after sheets of calculations and formulas (she probably had a hunch that her son will have to memorize them all, which she would be correct). She patted my head, just like any mother would to her son, and whispered that she was proud of me.

Oh, and she asked me why I did not have my phone or laptop beside me like usual.
And I murmured "I don't know".

Now, 1:30 a.m, is almost time for bed. As I tiptoed quietly down to the kitchen with an empty plate in a quest to fill up my glass with water, I passed by the master bedroom and overheard their conversation.

"Hm, I don't know. He usually studies with his laptop and earplugs on, but lately he's just focusing so hard without distractions. He's been doing this every weekend at home since April. I can't imagine having to go through a week at work, and not relax on weekends but continue to study. I really don't know how he does it, I mean, how do you motivate yourself for so long...it's not a bad thing really..."

All her husband can do is nod, while staring blankly at the newspaper in front of him.

As I settled down in my bed, I turned on my laptop for the first time since four days ago, and decided to write down my thoughts for the night.

I don't know. Once upon a time, she told me to come back to visit once in a while, because she missed me and felt lonely. We depended on MSN and Skype to maintain 80% of the relationship; it was a medium connecting two hearts in two separate cities. I never understood why, but gradually I learned that my online existence was for her, to motivate and encourage her through hard times, to ask how her day has been, to tease her about guys chasing after her....

How does a pounding heart feel no emotions.
How do you motivate yourself with something that has already passed.
How do you still love someone when that person is in love with another.

A mechanical heart; drawing power from its diminishing ability to feel.
It propels itself forward nonetheless.