404: remember 2009

We’re here again.

As I write this I feel an insane sense of relief as the year comes to a close. It’s not that it was bad (it wasn’t — far from it), or that it was unexpected (it was — but that’s not the point). More than anything I want to collapse from sheer relief and amazement that the start of this year has turned out so differently from the end.

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403: no, you girls will never know (how a boy feels)

I bumped into P last night while at Bar Bar, along with Z, whom I didn’t say hi to. As I predicted, it was an awkward mess of social niceties, something that was painful even though it lasted all of two seconds (“Hi! … See you around!”) and I felt slightly embarrassed that my smile was altogether too bright, and hopeful (with what? I have no idea). I quickly turned away, and so did he, and we resumed our normal conversations even as his friends tittered away, laughing at the awkwardness of it all.

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402: christmastime in the city

So, enough with the emo posts.

This month has been a bit strange. The weather’s taken an obsessively unpredictable route — it keeps alternating between sunny and raining, not that it’s something I didn’t already know before (and have I already said all this before? I probably have). Since the exams ended I’ve been doing little else other than bum around, do nothing, watch Top Chef, enjoy the rain and the sun, people watch with lovely friends at random cafes. I bought a ton of books at the book sale a couple of weeks ago, but I haven’t even had the time to get through one entire book. What have I been doing? It’s probably part of the fun that I don’t know where the time went, kind of like when I was on exchange and the days flew by in a blur of happiness.

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401: the life cycles of earthworms

When you’re little the world is so big. Nothing prepares you for the period in between where you grow up, grow a brain, and realise that the world is bigger than you think. There is nothing to fill it, not even close. There are empty spaces across lawns where laughing children should be, along avenues where lovers should stroll in the evening light, romantic (and deluded) as it sounds, in the wake of trailing exhaust fumes from the nearby cars. The vehicles themselves are packed like sardines along the roads, barely an inch or two to weave in and out of spiderweb traffic, but inside the drivers amble along their lonely roads without anyone to keep them company. There are human-shaped spaces where people should be, even if the air camouflages them and we sometimes lose our focus.

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