Emotional train wreck. Passenger: 1, Death toll: 1.

I started scribbling on a scrap piece of paper, that previous little piece of writing (I wouldn't call it a poem since there's no rhyme or structure to it) on the MRT after gym yesterday night. Back home, I got my 'lil sis to edit it with me. With her literary insights, I came up with that.

Ever since I started this blog (my initial intention was simply to chronicle my days in Paris), writing has served as a good emotional outlet for me. I turn to it for expression, for therapy. And surprisingly, it helps. Though in extreme (such as when I become about as overwrought as a 3-year old girl whose toy has been taken away from, can get) circumstances, I'll still require some form of human intervention. And that's when I'm very thankful for my sis, close friends (who offer a listening ear, a crying shoulder, erh, I meant a shoulder to cry on, and make me laugh inspite of myself) and of cos' the few people who bother to read my blog and leave sweet encouraging messages. ^_^

How I could have been so deliciously and idiotically euphoric yesterday afternoon (yes sis, I know it was just a piece of bread...) then end up bawling my eyes out at the end of the night is admittedly completely beyond me.

The last week or so have been chains of exhausting, precipitous ascensions and descensions. I've always believed that were life to be a graph, I'd rather have a series of curves or straight lines of positive and negative gradients than a zero gradient horizontal line. Maybe I haven't made myself clear on this; I really should. So here goes, all these in a matter of a few weeks is too much... it'll be nice to have m (y = mx + c) tappered off right about now... *speaking out loud, to no one in particular*

Still feeling zombified today.
Working.in.slow.motion.
Functioning.solely.on.autopilot.
One of my rats took advantage of my condition and greedily sank his teeth into my finger. Before, when they try to 'nibble' on my fingers, (it usually doesn't hurt too bad or bleed much), a mild French swear word would inexorably escape my lips. However, today, as my finger bled profusely in my glove, I didn't even make so much as a peep. (or a *beep* for that matter. ha.)
Considering the number of times I get bitten, wouldn't you agree with me that it's a pity I don't work with mutated spiders instead? ;p [Aiyah so sayang, else will have superpowers liao...]

As we were on our way to the gym yesterday, M had very kindly informed me that he has got his return flight (the final one) back to UK booked. Departure would be very soon. But, but, listen to this, it's unprofessional of him to tell me the date at this point in time. Unprofessional?!?! The last time I checked, we were friends! 'We are not in a professional situation right now!' I told him. At least let me know the damn date! His (stupid) reason being, the date is not set in stone and could still be changed. Ya, like a delay of a week. Oooo, that's a whole world of difference leh... Then as if this wasn't bad enough, he had to remind me that A is leaving early June.

Realisation struck, and something collapsed within.

Both of them have gone away for the long weekend. Leaving me plenty of time to brood over their impending departures. :( Bleagh. I hate goodbyes. I mustav said this before.