picture in my mind

I just made the mistake of blog-hopping again (hello, it is like freaking drug abuse! it is bad for me but I still do it.) and started pleading for help from Eunice.

sham b says:
I FEEL DEPRESSED.
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
This is why you must never go blog-hopping
sham b says:
okay.
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
It screws up any sort of transient peace you have
sham b says:
please remind me from time to time.
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
FORGET WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
HAHA
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
FORGET NOW.
sham b says:
SIIIIGH
sham b says:
SIIIIIIIIGH
sham b says:
Part of me just wants to CRY.
sham b says:
LIKE SERIOUSLY.
sham b says:
WHHHHYYYYY.
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
Yes, the common side effect of this activity
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
Would you rather never worry about more complicated things? Worry, as in try to work it out in your mind?
APPA THE FLYING BISON! says:
No, right?
sham b says:
no.
sham b says:
but.
sham b says:
I can't explain it.
sham b says:
I feel so inadequate.

It's just, I see these people, and they seem so wonderfully happy and uncomplicated and pure and beautiful (okay, I am aware that I sound a little bit mad...) that I can't help but start to worry about myself. And Shweta just wished me a worry-free holiday too. It's like, for some people, things just seem to come so easy. And when they cry, it's about simple and little things. And they complain about simple and little things. And omg, I feel so amazingly distraught right now, it's mad.

BREATHE.

Okay, I am sorry. I do wonder why outbursts like these aren't confined within the period of adolescence. I am supposed to be oooold and be done with stupid and irrational pettiness. Met up with Jiawen, Munirah and Eunice today, and at one point we were exclaiming about how old we're getting. We were like, "GASP! The kids born in 2000 are in Primary 3 now!!!" and "OHMYGOD, your sister is a 90s baby??? A 90s baby??? And she's 18???" and "There is this blogger I know who said she was getting married and then, GASP, I found out she was born in '88!" HAHA, seriously mad and random, okay.

Also, it is a mark of age that I am seeing the following poem in a completely different light than when I was 15 and Ms Leow set it for us for literature class.

Spinster
Sylvia Plath

Now this particular girl
During a ceremonious april walk
With her latest suitor
Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck
By the birds' irregular babel
And the leaves' litter.

By this tumult afflicted, she
Observed her lover's gestures unbalance the air,
His gait stray uneven
Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower;
She judged petals in disarray,
The whole season, sloven.

How she longed for winter then! --
Scrupulously austere in its order
Of white and black
Ice and rock; each sentiment within border,
And heart's frosty discipline
Exact as a snowflake.

But here -- a burgeoning
Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits
Into vulgar motley --
A treason not to be borne; let idiots
Reel giddy in bedlam spring:
She withdrew neatly.

And round her house she set
Such a barricade of barb and check
Against mutinous weather
As no mere insurgent man could hope to break
With curse, fist, threat
Or love, either.

I don't know. It's still sad and lonely. But now, I feel like it's not so bad; people who turn away from love. It's understandable. It's complicated and messy and tiring. And maybe some people just don't want to risk it. But really, I don't know. At the end of the day, it's hard to decide what's worth fighting for.