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I remember

As early as six in the morning, the bell rings. Indicate the beginning of your day, in an asylum called hostel. Everybody with faces of zombies ran to the bathroom for an early bath.

I remember

The first moment I stepped in. Noble faces of seniors greet me in pleasure. Yet I don’t know they were wearing masks, and reveal the true them when I am helpless. Asked me to clean up their laundry or even cook instant mee. Yet I did the same thing to my juniors. Haha.

I remember

Breakfast, lunch and dinner were specially prepared for more than half a thousand people. Everyone without any idea what were the ingredients of the cuisines. Then somehow a scream came out of nowhere, “Aaahh…there’s a dead lizard in my rice!” Unfortunately, at that time I already finished my meal. “Oh, no! I’m going to be a Cicakman!”

I remember

The worst day in hostel was the best day of your life before. Birthdays. Rotten eggs, water from the fish pond, will be poured on the celebrated person. Then, the celebration ended when the warden finally showed up, without any invitation. The lucky person will remember the best gift he received, three red lines at the back. Ouch. Luckily this doesn’t happen during the birthday of mine. Fiewwhh.

I remember

It was like living in hell there. Bound with schedules and time limits. Only allowed to go out to town once a month. But, the memories living in a hostel are the sweetest in my life.

There I learned the meaning of friendship; I learned the meaning of life.