sunrise...

It's like that song from Fiddler on the Roof.

Sunrise, sunset;
sunrise, sunset...

The sun rises early. Summer months are still hanging around, but the bar's closing.

Been so bloody depressed recently. A lot of things are saying. If I didn't leave the old place, if nothing had changed, if I didn't give in to a weakness. It's like a karmic rebalance, like there's no way you can have bad luck forever. And no way you can be happy without being sad.

Again I worry if I'll ever see home again. It shouldn't matter, because it doesn't. But already in my innermost of voices, it's whispering that there will most likely not be another sunrise on the things I've waved goodbye to.

mirrors...

So I'm here. And tomorrow is another trudging back to campus to begin a year of pointless mugging. Except I won't. I only do assignments and shit and sometimes attend lectures.

My room has mirrors. All across the wall containing the built-in robes. It freaks me out, mostly because it's not a single mirror, it's many many mirror tiles kinda like the ones on Darien's stair landing. Freaky. I'll patch the thing up later with black sugar paper. So one wall is gonna be totally goth.

I find I miss inanimate objects more than I miss people. Yesterday, I found a brand new white turtleneck in my stuff I left behind. I almost cried for the neglect I inflicted on it. Yes, my dear. One day when I'm not so hideously fat, I will wear you. And wear you I will. One day, when I'm not so fugly that I'll further break the mirrors on the wall that already freak me out, I'll wear all of you poor ignored clothes. And you will be glad that after such a long wait, you will finally grace the form of something less resembling an overripe fruit.

I'm feeling terribly alone. Is that what 4-month-long holidays do to you? Maybe they do. Or perhaps it's the idea I'll never see a lot of things again. If that's so, I don't know how well I'll take death.

i hate...

... me.

Whee.

since i've been gone...

It's hard to notice someone's missing when they're never around, yes?

Sounds kinda like my social life.

Anyhoo, a short pictoral display with suitable accompanying notations should serve to explain lots.

First, or last, loh sang of the year for the cousin who's Norway bound. Have fun, Jee.


Six thousand feet into the air. My feet lay about half a foot away from the opposite wall. Small room, to be told.


Indeed, the very air of the building lent itself to very Silent Hill type situations.


But the rest of the weekend was a bout of senseless thrill seeking.




Hard to get sophic about getting sunburnt from trying to maximize a 51 buck all-park ticket. Or wax lyrical about being fat. Hooh.