Bruce Almighty...again.

I haven’t Bruce-blogged for a long time. Recap : This particular housemate is called Bruce due to my friends’ pointing out her uncanny resemblance to Bruce the shark from Finding Nemo.

So this evening. I was innocently dipping my tortilla into the hummous while waiting for my food in the oven.

Bruce sweeps in and talks about how she’s missed a party of a mutual friend of ours last night. So I told her I knocked on her door to give her the VIP passes but she wasn’t there. Then she started rattling the very words I knew she would, “It is because I was at another party for the successful elections last night that I won” *She pauses expectantly, cueing for me to congratulate her*

“Oh, that’s good, congrats.”
It kinda makes you NOT want to say congratulations. Not out of spite, but just because she is already blowing her own horn SO loudly, there is no need for another to assist her.

“Thank you for coming for the voting” Sarcasm dripped in her voice.
I told her about not having the society’s card therefore not being able to vote. Then she said she made me a member-complete-with-card, to vote in the elections and insisted matter-of-factly over and over that I could’ve gone, I should’ve gone etc etc…
It doesn’t matter, sheesh, YOU WON. Petty-nya. Though I’m keep trying to fight back thoughts of her threatening the entire greek community on campus to vote, with her greasy mousaka. *To Greeks out there, I love mousaka, just not HERS.. though I know today that some of us traumatized last year have sworn off Mousaka forever*

When she was done fitting her magnified head into the kitchen, she then stated, “By the way, you’re eating hummous wrong.”
“Really? Ah nevermind, it’s nice like that”
“You supposed to put in olive oil” She presses on, expecting me to do something.
“ Nah, I don’t like olive oil.”
She stared at me like I started growing bean sprouts from my head.
I can’t even being to describe how insulted she looked at my harmless comment.

Kinda made me want to laugh out loud. This is reminiscent of the nightmare from last year! I remember how Mel, Paul, me and others had to endure her telling us the ‘right’ way to cook (a.k.a. HER way). She’d haughtily claim the food was Mediterranean or Cypriot and IMPOSE her ways unto us, including shoving us aside and taking our pots off the hob while switching the temperature. “Eh, let me show you the way.”
This same person who FLOODS everything in oil and salt. Telling us the ‘right’ way to eat… UH-HUH.

It became such a dreadful kitchen experience ALL the time that we all started conceiving plans to avoid her in the kitchen. Eventually, we realized that we were all doing the same thing :
a) Open door, listen for Bruce-in-kitchen-sounds, if clear, breathe sigh of relief, go out, cook.
b) If not clear, hide away back in room, start chewing on books and/or bedsheets to avoid going into starvation mode.
c) If already cooking, and Bruce enters, quickly nuke food, make urgent excuse (of which we have a list), and dash into room with food/uncooked food.

It was THAT bad. We felt like prisoners.

Back to now. I shrugged and ignored her continuous staring. Letting my imagination go wild, I envisioned my big round tortilla wrap in front of me to be her face. And smothered it in hummous. WITHOUT olive oil. Just plain hummous.
And when I was done… I splotched on more. And rubbed it in with glee. HAH.

Don’t tell me how to eat my food, honey.

Be Afraid

My housemate Mo noticed it today. My China housemate’s eerie silent hatred towards me. It seeps through each time she responds to my greetings to her everyday. Every “Hello!” and “Good morning!” is always greeted by a sullen curt ‘Hi.”… followed by a I-really-don’t-want-interaction-with-you-but-i-need-to-reply-to-your-greeting face.
Until now, I really can’t put a finger to why she treats me extra cold compared to everyone else. *NO, it is not because of her discovering this blog.*… That’s not what she does online anyways… She uses the computers in the library because there are others around “to make sure I won’t be out of control”. Hmm… suspicious.

Everytime me and Paul walk into the kitchen and start to engage in the lively banter with the rest of the housies, her face would drop, she’d go silent, whip her boiled vegetables off the hob, and slide out of the kitchen. I’d really like to know what goes on in her mind. It’s the silent ones you have to watch out for. Probably externalizing the blame unto me and plotting something. Must start moving my food around. So she never spots what’s mine…never ‘gets’ the pattern. I hope I don’t wake up 20 years down and find out I was being slowly poisoned with Uranium or something… PARANOIA BIG TIME.

It’s not normal. Through initial conversations, I’ve noticed that her perceptions towards the world is very different. Like it belongs in a different quiet world. Quietly dangerous. Then there are the moments when she’d stand at the kitchen window and cackle at car accidents, or when she was so excited to watch a documentary on how to kill George Bush, or made random comments during Property Tv shows that the prospective house buyers will die in a landslide… or better yet, “If they got murdered, no one will know”

I even remember the time she came into the kitchen and said she was so hungry, she could eat me, “You will be yummy as a baby…nyum nyum…”… Or the time my ex turned on the tap to wash dishes and she scowled at him, “Don’t waste water”.

Or that time me and Paul caught her with a deranged grin on her face, gleefully staring at my Cypriot housemate’s back while she walked into the kitchen. IT WAS SO SCARY I SWEAR.

The only time I had a proper conversation with her was at the beginning of the year, when she told me she hated Chinese people and they made her very nervous if they tried talking to her. That was after she openly berated the American people for being ‘too open, ignorant, rude and vulgar’…right in front of two Americans in a bus. Presumably Americans because
a) They wore ‘College of Nevada’ and ‘Ohio University’ shirts and
b) They were glaring at her through the whole journey.
Our last normal conversation was on love and finding the right one in the world, to which I gave her a hug at the end of, and left for London with Paul and Felicia for New Year’s.
Then it stopped.

The only two bits of communication with her after is just me going, “Oh, why are the curtains in the kitchen drawn? It’s so lovely outside!”, abruptly cut by “I don’t like sunlight.”

And that time I thought I was being helpful, “When you boil vegetables, that takes the nutrients out”. She hasn’t spoken to me since.

And until now, my stand on her being capable of something REALLY sinister still…stands (can’t find another word…my engerand is deteriorating). There’s just this dark aura lurking within. I am actually afraid of her now. Ever since the V-Tech tragedy. Especially when I’m alone in the kitchen with her and she’s yielding her vegetable knife.

Must make sure the doors are locked tonight before I go to sleep. With pepper spray under my pillow.

Garlic cloves around my neck.

wombat heart chocs

I got chocolates yesterday ☺. Just because. And we just scorfed down another tub of sorbet (2nd tub of the month). This relationship sees me getting blissfully fat.

Got bits of the presentation poster laid out on the floor now. Such a clash of colours. But you gotta do what you gotta do to grab the attention. Two essays have not been touched today… and the dissertation is moving slowly but surely. Need more time and faster fingers. Need faster brain.

My colleagues are still looking for this blog as of now. Heheh. It’s a research office, so I’m just waiting for the moment they announce they’ve found it.
The barrage of prodding questions in the quest for it ranged WIDE the other day.
“So, what did you do yesterday? Oh. What about the weekend before?”
“Did you go anywhere interesting lately?”
“Are you writing as a bush kangaroo?”
“Your last name isn’t Steven is it?”
*All while furiously typing in every associated keyword they could think of into various search engines.*

Well, until thennn....hideaway i shall!

Of Trees and Taramasalata

I love the smell of spring. When Hull’s not acting up of course, washing us over with the smell of Hull. A tantalizing combo of swamps, pig farms and sewers on a bad day. But today, due to the rain, it smelt… clean. Of freshly cut grass and the mountains on a cold dewy morning. (Note : Hull is flat. There are no mountains, not even a bump of higher land)

And it’s amazing how the little things you take for granted just SPRINGS up (excuse the pun) and makes you go, “Ooo…”. The little things like leaves. Leaves on trees. Something Malaysia is never short of. Here, after seeing 4 months of naked trees and depressing twigs, it’s just such a wonder to SEE nature spring back into life! (again, excuse the irresistible pun). Take the lively bunch of trees outside my hostel communal kitchen. All through winter and easter, I’ve glared at the stark naked ‘trees’, as if daring them to grow some green stuff so to qualify as an ACTUAL tree. Towards the end of Easter…things started to sprout. Little broccoli-like shoots started to push its way out of that ‘sorry excuse for a tree’. Every morning since I noticed the first green shrub, it’s been like a bonding experience. Sitting by the window every morning, scrutinizing their growth. Every few mornings, in the middle of breakfast, I’d grab a mouth-full-of-cereals Paul, push his face against the window and excitedly announce, “Look! More green! OHH They’re growing up!”.
A bit pathetic I know. But if you were here, it would’ve brought upon you the same “ooo” joy that a garden full of colourful spring flowers evoke in most people. It’s the little things.

Got the tickets to the End of Year Ball today. The queue started at about 1am the night before, with people camping outside the union (sleeping bags, mats, food and hot flasks galore!)… At 5.30am, my friends who got our tickets said it was in full swing and the queue snaked around the campus. We relieved them at 9.30am. There were about 1000 people ahead of us and another 1000 piling up behind us. At noon, deed was done and luckily, we have tickets!! It supposedly has a great line up, no food, no actual hotel venue, just a done up casino and a funfair with rides outside… 37 pounds. But heyy, it’s one of them things you DO cuz it’s the last year. Should get on to more work. The panic from the supermassive workload should hit by now. But am aching from hunching over my desk. I just wanna watch Sex in the City and curl up with more chocolates.

Had a strange dream a couple nights back. Quite haunting. I can still vividly see the outstretched hands of the countless children falling through a deep hollow tower housing people who lived under a tyrant government. I stood on the balcony that circled every floor, trying to grasp onto those little hands but couldn’t reach them. When I finally smuggled out some children I could save, the ship I was transporting them in did not leave according to schedule. It came under tense inspection by the scary secret police. Then I woke up. Quite unnerved.

Could it be a manifestation of the VTech psychopath shooting news I’ve been reading lots about? Or something more sinister… like the Taramasalata I had before going to bed. See, Taramasalata sounds really grand… like some ancient royal superfood..that can dance the salsa! The kinda dip you’d like your bag of celery to be friends with. All things good and sexy.

So during an eagerly-awaited tea break, I anxiously ripped apart the packaging and dunked my celery sticks in it and stuffed it into my face.
*munch munch munch… munch…munch…eugh*
It was rather...disappointing. Rather… Fishy.
*flip to back of box*… Ingredients : Cod Roe.
Hmm. FISH EGG. Mushed up fish eggs. Mushed up eggs of an almost-extinct fish. Dyed pink.
What a letdown. Ok, so I bought it because of the pretty colour.
IT HAD SO MUCH PROMISE… With a name like Taramasalata! It was supposed to make you.... DANCE!

Two other dreams in the past week triggered something in me. A severed memory that would not talk to me in what seemed like a familiar moment in a strange future. Memories of what you knew then confuses you because you know not what’s yet to come. There’s a blurry line in those dreams and reality. And more things just seem to be triggering more thoughts in me lately. When you revisit these still-images in your mind again, it transports you back to that moment stuck in time, where feelings and memories are as fresh as before. As much as you try to avoid it, it still comes back and hits you. Leaving you stunned for a while, trying to shake it off. No matter how happy you are in the current, there is always a past to mourn for. Problem is, I didn’t let the mourning take its full course. When a wound has not been healed properly, it is so susceptible to opening up and bleeding again. Whenever you’re caught in that triggered moment, it seems like time never passed and there are still tears to be shed. My memory of a façade that I could not bring myself to or feared to read. Like a bookmark in a closed book. Closed with a cause and intention. Put on the hold shelf. Never to be collected.

Wombat prays for VTech

Go to any news website and you will be greeted by an image of a south korean lad. He could've been picked out from any school yearbook. This guy, as you will already know, massacred 33 people in U.S.'s deadliest shootings 2 days ago.

The more you read around it, the more you think, why wasn't more done to prevent it? With all the warning signs of a disturbed mind, cries for help/attention and fury towards the world contained in an eerie personality... Yet it was so easy for him to walk into a pawn shop a month before... shoot two... go for a stroll to collect his weapons and drop off his package of photos and incoherent anger at the post...come back and shoot a whole lot more... and take out his own depressed life. THIS IS GETTING TOO COMMON NOWADAYS... It makes you fear going into a university library nowadays knowing that a student with an intention to kill will try take out as many as he can, targetting hotspots like so.

GUN CONTROL people....gun control... I know it's an oversimplistic solution as even if there was gun control, the will of a person when he makes up his mind to kill will overcome any gun regulatory barrier. If you've set out to kill, pretty much nothing can stop you. But it probably will make a difference to a person who doesn't have enough guts or willpower to go through the hassle to end his own life or a handful of lives for that matter. The AVAILIBILITY of it, just having it around, the EASY ACCESIBILITY TO ONE alone can start you thinking. Knowing how easy it is to end your misery/inflict vengeance on others, increases the possibility of occurance.

Reading his two plays was kinda eerie. There was just so much anger in it. His own manifested into the characters coupled with his views on the world. It was quite twisted. You can kinda see the world inside his head. But not understand it. I could sense his intepretations of the world and other's actions and the way he perceives them fuels more anger. He was clearly disturbed. He wrote around topics like paedophilia, angry accusations and resorted to violence as a final relief.

As of this moment, new news say he was admitted to a mental ward, stalks women... He sent a package with his pictures etc to the news in between his shootings. A cry for attention? A shot at fame? To get the message in his mind out to the world? Perhaps his cry for attention wasn't attended to fast enough, and his later shootings were a manifestation of that anger?

This guy showed signs of psychotic behaviour long before. Why wasn't more done about it? How easy is it for someone with a record to obtain suspicious amounts of guns and ammo...no questions asked? So many questions whenever something like that happens. I'd dread when it happens again *touchwood*. More lives, different university, different statistics. Something has to be done. The world's supposed to be a safer place...

Honestly, one of my housemates worries me. She moved in this year and gives me the creeps. She shows signs of behaviour akin to him. She's not into interaction and doesn't heed to your greetings sometimes answering curtly to cut off any communication, she relishes in morbid ideas (when she DOES talk), has a somewhat strange perception of the world, and laughs and cheers whenever something bad (catastrophe, murder) happens on tv. Call me paranoid but I'm gonna make sure I lock the door every night now and skirt gingerly around her in the kitchen.

Am buried in too much work and no direction really. Need to get more motivated and speed things up. Paul's been away at his place for two days. We're trying to strike more of a balance with our workload. It's kinda weird after having him around almost all the time during Easter break. I miss him already.

My nose is bleeding and I've got a headache. I hardly get headaches. Must be stress and lack of sleep. Could also be 'heaty' food and not enough fruits. Dehydration probably contributes to it too (am not a water gulper). Or a combo of all... ACE.

Broody Herr... It's almost 2am... got work in like 7 hours...Time to sleep then...

Wombat in Whitby

So we went to Whitby for a daytrip last weekend. A good change from the dull Hull scenery. We left Hull bright and early 7am, after a hearty breakfast. Packed sandwiches for the journey the night before. Among other things packed away for the journey the next morning – Courage.

Arrived 9am in Scarborough. Seeing his campus grounds so soon still jolted at me. It felt strange somewhat to be back again. So familiar and fond once. Walking down that road, seeing it as it was many months back. It was still the same place. But different. From the way it was in the stills of my head, that dark early winter morning, bitter wind on my face, dead trees hovering and mud on the ground. Spring felt different from that detached winter numb. The sunlight seemed to coat its new paint job unto everything. Knowing underneath that nothing really changed. With the help of Alvin and Mo, dropped off what I came to drop off at the security office and left. He must hate me. Caught sight of a gray jumper with a red line in the familiar window. Knowing well there’s nothing left I could do.

As we made a turn along the coast towards Whitby, I felt like I’ve left another part of my life behind. Saw it linger in the roaring waves before it got swept out into the sea.

Whitby started at 11am. We drove right to the top of Whitby Abbey, didn’t do the 199 steps climb. So couldn't buy the magnet that said, "I climbed the 199 steps to Whitby Abbey" *disappointed*. The place was quite large and ANCIENT. The ruins of the abbey looked gorgeous in the bright sunlight. Got in, opted for the audio tour while wandering around the outside among the ruins. We kept rolling our eyes and snorted with laughter each time the person on the audio tape overdid the ‘medieval drama’. AND OVERDRAMATIZED THEY DID.

"Oh my lovely abbey...How dare the King!...How delightful!" Aiyoh, too much.

We took plenty of good pictures though. Then walked the market area in the town looking for Fish & Chips and ‘smelly fish’ called kippers (Coastal towns like Whitby are famous for their fresh fish and…erm….not so fresh chips.. actually, the place we ate at had them both. Could actually taste the freshness if I could get past the grease. Same goes for the fried Mars bar Al and Mo had)… Watched families fishing at the canals…Snapped pics with Captain Cook’s ship…Bought a Fat Rascal for a pound (a sturdy cross between a giant scone and a rock bun)…Got seaside ice-cream…walked up to their Whalebone arch… take pics of Captain Cook’s statue with a bird on its head… Drove to Robin Hood’s Bay, realized it’s just another coastal view…and left for home feeling totally knackered.



Today was LURVELY. So warm. Could wear a sundress out with flip-flops and eat ice cream and all. It was even too warm to have curry for lunch! So rare but true. Sunny weather forecasts until Thursday, when we’ll be plunged into cloudiness and depressing gray and near zero night temperatures again. Ah well, at least it lasted a couple of days this time.

Found Oatcakes in Sainbrys today. It’s been almost 2 yearssss… I’ve been trying to convince the whole world that I wasn't imagining Giant flat oatcake things.. but everyone thinks I’m talking about pancakes, or capati, or pfftt... TORTILLA. I know my oat products, people. We also bought this MASSIVE 700g frozen herby salmon. Which Paul thinks is actually less cuz “frozen meat weighs more than when fresh”, launching off a long debate on size, isipadu, molecules and weight of water loss and retained in meat. Could’ve had a Eureka kodak-moment there.

Radiohead are actually good. Better-er than I thought.

Time to sleep. Another unproductive day. Stuffed with too much food and chocolate (74% cocoa chocolate to be exact). I CAN”T BELIEVE EASTER BREAK IS OVER. Classes start again tomorrow, and it’s another deadline week nearer to project, poster, essays and exams. No stress no stress no stress…

I close my eyes and I see you there
I know I’ll see your face again

Things scientists come up with...

Finding of the day :
Apparently, some researchers from a university here have found the secret of making the perfect bacon butty (bacon sandwich). They’ve even got a MATHS formula for it! Fry it for so and so minutes in so and so temperature/pressure…IN WHAT KIND OF BREAD...HOW THICK...

I cant imagine it going into a publication or journal... Journal of The Sandwich...BreaDing News...The Social Sarnie...Butty Hall of Fame..

More than 1000 hours was spent testing varieties of it. "They tried different types and cuts of bacon, cooking techniques, types of oil and a range of cooking times at different temperatures...Fifty volunteers also judged each sandwich according to its taste, texture and flavour." (BBC, 2007).

And now ladies and gentleman... the ultimate formula : N = C + {fb (cm) . fb (tc)} + fb (Ts) + fc

For a sandwich, people. Meat in between two slices of toast/bun/other pastry. WHHYYYYY LAAAAaaa….

Pah, so THAT’s where the money went… to perfecting a sarnie some of us DON”T EVEN EAT! I think bacon smells of pig too.

They should channel the research funds to a developing nation or a charity or something...devote their cause to something more...filling (pun intended. ha.ha.).. More...cause-ful. Like finding a cure for perenial rhynititis. This sinus that Paul has. It's like perpetual hay fever, gets you sniffly. He gets really bunged up especially during prolonged periods in my room. I'm starting to think he's allergic to ME... Maybe I'm like a giant allergen or something...giant dustmite in disguise...

I miss my gran’s place in downtown penang…an old-town charm with balconies of bougainvilleas housing 6 of her 10 children…knocking on adjacent walls to wake everyone up on Sunday for breakfast at the market…lazy Sunday mornings watching Chinese serials in my gran’s living room. And imposing my little self unto my aunts every night in their rooms listening to Chinese music and watching them knit and read magazines with Chinese characters I couldn’t read… and sniffing the Guiness my granma downs every night as it ‘helps her sleep’…and insisting on singing good night songs to the entire household before being carried upstairs half asleep.

Song of the Mo : The Drugs Don’t Work – The Verve (a song for his gf dying of cancer… you can sense the sadness and helplessness in it… I miss my granpa)

Miss-List

I miss home. I always miss home most during Easter. (Although we don't celebrate it back home - unless you count school holiday Good Friday as a celebration). I miss everything about the two places now regarded as home - Penang and KL.

Most of all, i miss the PEOPLE in it that make it home.

Was just talking to Namses on msn and she said it should be illegal to miss people (she's back home and we're scattered all around the world...). I used to think that too (especially when your lil comfy world is opened up to actual superficialness here, you tend to miss the REALness back home)... but now i think it's a good thing to miss. We should be grateful that we CAN miss and we have people who miss us back too. It's the one felt presence of love in this life. *Shu's intelligent quote of the day*

If I could list everything I've longed and deja-vu-ed for ever since I got here, the list would stretch longer than your neural networks stretched out (that's like 400 miles or something...i HAVE been reading my neuropsychology text...boohaha)...

But just to keep it short, here's some from the Top of the Miss - List:
1. My dogs. Otis' grumpy sleepy mug, his humping ways, and Leo's ball tricks
2. My friends. The ones I hold closest to my heart.
3. My family. Especially sunday morning dim-sum (ohh DIMSUM!) and the huge extended family get-togethers
3. HELP Uni college. Spent a good 2 years of my life there.. The hot, cramped bas sekolahs that take you from one building to another..the good location and surrounding buildings that have become familiar landmarks.
4. Menara Bangsar, with my roommate, housemates, the 'ground floor garden', the pool and good view of hazy KL.
5. Penang's beaches. Where you see water everywhere you go (it's an island!)
6. Msian Megasales.
7. Sri Emas, good vegetarian chap-fun you can hide under your rice...muahaha.. Actually, just vegetarian food for that matter.
8. Mamak, Auntie Anne's Pretzels, Poh-Piah and other Penang hawker food.
9. 1-Utama and Midvalley.
10. The packed free-shuttle that takes you to Midvalley. I MISS KL PUBLIC TRANSPORT. How you can sit on the lrt from one end to another and just stare out as the surroundings turn from city-scape to oldtown ulu. I actually miss the wait for inconsistent busses too.
11. The routine innocent days of high school. Sleepy mornings, assemblies, lunchtimes, sports days, activities, hard studying, and lazing around in CGL's assembly area.
12. The smell of famous amos cookies in Sungei Wang Plaza.
13. Island Glades and Menara Gembira. Ah, gembira days.
14. THE CONSTANT SUN & HOT WEATHER

Happy easter ya'll :)
*channels chocolate eggs and kisses over*

Intriguing Mercury

Well! My project draft's almost finished. Just appendices and references to look into. I can't believe it's taken this long. My entire 3rd year's build up for this one lone project, it has to be perfect! It is THE report. Will go play tennis tomorrow if it's sunny and not too cold, need to hit some balls!! Need to let off steam!

Am quite broke now (!@#$%^& british pound!) shopped at the Next sale and junk-food grocery shopped yesterday then went to Pozition's last night. Entry was 6 pounds on Sat nite. RIP-OFF. It was SO packed inside. The queue to get in was snaking AROUND the building! And queuing in a dress in the bloody cold (complete with wind gusts) is PURE TORTURE. We were supposed to go to Fuel, Hull's gay club, but decided against it after Alvin pulled out due to hay fever. Johnny's text before we left : "Be prepared for gayness"...heheheh... YEAH, it would've been more interesting than the R&B tunes we were dancing to the whole night. *Note: R&B is not my thing, i decided. It's alright for a bit, but it lacks character and gets boring after a while. CHEESE music on the other hand...*

So anyways. Speaking of cheese, while searching up some cheese on Youtube, like Queen's 'Dont stop me now' etc, I came across a fascination character - Freddy Mercury. Immortalized in pictures, videos and a lack of interviews just peaked more curiosity. It must be something to be him, he thrives on crowd energy, the ultimate performer. Kinda makes u wish u were a rock star playing to millions too. Apparently, he's Indian but lived most his life in England and calls himself Persian. Hmm. He's an enigmatic character, there's just something about him, his musical talent....four-octave voice...stage presence...TEETH? I can see why or how people fell for him. He's got a LOT of charisma. All that energy and passion he exudes on stage makes him sexy, and probably gave him a constant supply of the same thing that gave him AIDS. He was the ultimate Cad (as opposed to Dad, read my study and u'll see *smug-i-understand-the-mating-world-grin*), therefore attracting the kind of people who are naturally attracted to Cads or even be Cads themselves. No long-term potential. He's probably my dentist's worst nightmare too. Wonder if he spits while singing on stage...or leaves his microphone all slobbery during a performance...

ANYWAYS.

It's been 5 months since that angry walk up the cold beach. Time's past by so fast and yet it seems like it never moved. I see the resemblance of this to behaviour reported with the death of an attachment figure. Even now it still hurts me like mad to know someone else i care about so much was hurt so much more and might still be reeling from the pain. Imagining it alone is painful. It will soon be half a year since my life took that turn, and yet some things remain static. Frozen in a blurry haze. The ambivalent period gets to me worst, at the rate it was going, and if it picked up again, it probably might have ended anyways. With the bad things, came the good as well, and those memories I will always keep. It's just the times when the dying phase gets evoked, those memories become haunting. Time to curl up under the duvet and let my mind do more thinkin and hopefully come closer to coming to terms with it all.