Quiet is the new loud.

Internet connection, finally! Wi-fi screwed up for half a day and even dad was complaining. Made eggs for myself for dinner. And had a couple of Guides cookies. A cup of hot lemon tea to perfect my life.

Remember what I said about peace never existing here? Yeah, did’t take me a psychic to get that right. On a side note, if you were reading my stuff I expect you to be a teeny little bit stealthier than to have scribbled a phone number on my stuff and left it there. The cycle repeats itself. Last cycle, though, lucky for you.

It scares me, how deep and shitty this ditch we are in.

Aim of life: to be able to say “I can” at this.

My life is getting quite meaningless I kind of wish school could start now. But I’m not ready. My brain has gone so rusty I don’t think I can bear sitting down for an hour-long lesson without collapsing.

I was falling backwards, back to where I dragged myself out of. I was petrified. I cannot afford losing control right now. There is too much social expectations that I have to live up to. No. Build higher walls. Keep them firmly caged. Ignore. Yeap, keep it there.

And dimly she realised one of the great laws of the human soul: that when the emotional soul receives a wounding shock, which does not kill the body, the soul seems to recover as the body recovers. But this is only appearance. It is, really, only the mechanism of re-assumed habit. Slowly, slowly the wound to the soul begins to make itself felt, like a bruise which only slowly deepens its terrible ache, till it fills all the psyche. And when we think we have recovered and forgotten, it is then that the terrible after-effects have to be encountered at their worst.

Did I mention how annoyed I was at Sputnik Sweetheart? What the fuck kind of ending was that? I find it extremely irresponsible of Murakami to come up with an unconventional (really, impossible) storyline and give zero explanation about whatever “other world” there was supposed to have. Like, hello, a girl does not just walk out of the house and disappear into another world for a couple of what, weeks? Months? And come back? And worst of all not tell the tale??

Re-reading The Giver. I hope I find it a better novel than I found it 2 years back. Fahrenheit 451 soon, too! I don’t think I can finish Chatterley this year. Have to read 2 books at one go (which is a very very very bad thing to do because Confucius said not to: “方读此,勿慕彼; 此未終,彼勿起”) but that is because Chatterley is so draggy! Say I’m full of excuses, but yeah. Sorry Confucius. 😦


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