Why Does My Vim Window Switching Lag?

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

I was about to confess to my online chat partner in person when a barrage of comments suddenly flashed across my mind. [Don't bother. Jedediah is avoiding her right now. He's regretting ever mixing her up with someone else.] [It's all her fault for using a profile picture so similar to Georgia's. Otherwise, Jedediah wouldn't have gotten confused.] [It's annoying to think that when Jedediah lost a game, it was the supporting role, Monica, who comforted him. All those sweet words he said were meant for the female lead, Georgia.] [Jedediah is grossed out by it, too. Georgia only added him as a friend yesterday. It's so frustrating.] [Monica is a bane!] Dazed, I ran into Jedediah Merritt, who had just finished playing basketball. He quickly averted his gaze, but I moved around him, shoving the love letter into his roommate's hands. Online chat partner? I had more than one, sending my goodnight voice messages to several people every night.

My deskmate, Miranda Krause, has made a pact with the grade-swapping system. Because of that, she's able to swap her empty exam papers with my stellar ones. That's how Miranda ends up becoming the top scorer on the SATs. I, on the other hand, have flunked the exam, making me the laughingstock of the city. Unable to endure the suffering any longer, I choose to take my life by jumping off the school building. Little do I know that I'll return to the timeframe before the SATs take place. This time, I secretly slip an envelope between the folds of Miranda's backpack. It contains 700 dollars in cash as well as a talisman. The scribbles on the talisman may seem like chicken scratch, but one can vaguely make out the words "score-swapping" there.

- Oh yes ... there ... again ... stronger! Saccaded groans resounded through the walls, sneaking like a poison to the ears of Élodie. His breath was cut. Her heart tightened in his chest. No ... not that ... His trembling fingers gently pushed the door ajar in the guest room. And what she saw cut her legs. His fiancé, Victor, naked, in sweat, tackled Isabelle's offered body against the mattress, her hips hammering her basin with frightening brutality. -Damn, you are so good ... he growled, grabbing his sister's hair. Élodie gave her mouth a hand to stifle a cry. His big sister. His landmark. Her lifelong ally. And there, before her eyes, she stole the man she loved to him.