it's painfully quiet.



for the past 3 days, a bad spell. before tt, a not-bad spell which i can barely recall.

tonight as we stood at the dark alley at rowell rd, i glanced to my left and saw an ahpek-driven trishaw nonchalantly peddling a plumpish indian lady past us, dwn the lane perpendicular to the pathway on which we stood. quaint, i thought. 10 minutes later, as when we were making our way up tt lane, i spotted the same pair peddling towards and right past us on the right, in the exact same direction they came frm, their expressions as blasé as before. and so the night is as uncanny as the uneasiness that plagues me.

nanny's death anniversary yesterday left me disconcerted for reasons i don't think the other family members could fathom. so i spent most of my time looking stoned and watching clive in between. i don't like feeling left out and i don't like being ignored and i don't like having to keep quiet just because i have nothing refreshing to say. there was a time when i thought i'd never know what it feels like to experience disesteem. well, i guess now i have little reason to feel left out in this aspect.

i don't understand why sometimes operations in my head slow down to a chug---a-----chugg------ rate. i imagine it'd be something like a train tt just pulls up into a station but never really comes to a stop. the inertia festers and dissolves into a nagging air of malaise.

do you wonder what you will tell your children? i will tell them stories of pple i know whose lives are an epitome of drama (because as a youth, mummy was a little common in my actions, i would say).