okay, so i guess i feel better if i treat it like it was nothing but a mistake.

but sometimes i feel very tired stitching up old wounds, when i forget how i got them in the first place. how it all came about. i'm actually still quite disturbed when she asked me how it happened, after which i realised that cat got my tongue.

i almost blogged about how i didnt want fucking answers anymore. except that i couldnt answer some questions myself.

talk about kettle calling pot black. i say so without humour, without a smile.

and no, i still feel i'm already very blessed with family and friends. i think i'm supposed to be stronger, to be more sensible, to be able to rise above sulking about not getting something that i really really wanted, for quite some time.

some fights you have to fight alone, really.

but sometimes i do want to revert back to being a child, to curl up under my covers and stay there, and trick myself into believing that it's okay.

i can probably do that now, tell 8am tomorrow when i have to get up for nus training.