Excerpts from two weeks

A little before 5pm

I am browsing through black and white photos on flickr and suddenly my browser hangs and it scares the hell out of me. Not because the page decided to die, but it is this horrible feeling that is both so nauseating and disgusting it’s terrifying. It's as if it made a decision to mock me in apprehensive laughter, puppeteering the strings well; as if it was testing my patience, and slapping me with the feeling of rejection. Just then, I swear I could feel a lapping of ugly taunts silently chanting "jeopardize jeopardize" on full charge.

6.57pm

And then I was standing in the cold after class, there came an estranged moment of solitude; cool and collective.

10.31pm

I still have my laptop clock set 2 hours behind a fellow Melbournian time, just to remember how home will feel like at 8.32pm. just a little keepsake – I tell myself, just so I can feel better. It’s scary, looking at the date.

…fast forward to an early Tuesday morning a week later,

“…he builds his characters around strength, giving them paranormal supremacy. Florence is crafted to be gently delicate but fierce, stubborn and indignant towards Edward’s overwhelming desires and expectations, and ultimately, an innocence of his own.” my thoughts on reading ‘On Chesil Beach’ by Ian McEwan.

Yesterday

I receive a message and I get so angry I begin to pack my luggage in an out-of-rhythm frenzy because the sender was someone who sounded mighty jubilant and I think how dare you come and talk to me in your airy pretence as if nothing ever happened when some time ago, you refused my opinions and threw them back at me? So I just leave the phone still in its charger, fingerprinted with my revulsion.

Today

Tonight I am going home. And I am quite nervous and happy.