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July 09, 2003
Languid Expressions
Perhaps I am supposed to write.
Simply because I've gotten a new computer and cable connection. I am part of the connected world once again.
Simply because I have a PC right by my bed again.
My bed. My room. Blue paint and all.
This morning, Jerome dropped by and commented :
Your room looks like some intense shit. Dark blue paint. So many books. So many CDs, so many toys.
Many?
I've thrown so many away already. There's still much more left.
I'm supposed to write. About being back here in humid, stifling Singapore. About being away from Melbourne.
I try to replicate the life I've learnt to build for myself in Melbourne. And, surprisingly, my parents leave me alone to the extent I feel bewildering. I shouldn't be complaining, whining, or whatever.
But I am.
Lost and knowing naught what to do.
The gaping hole where my heart once was feels slightly achey.
We will learn to re-establish life slowly.
In the meantime, there are always distractors around.
Even words feel disjointed. I told you aphasia is crippling. And now you have to believe me.
Posted by lainey at July 9, 2003 02:34 PM
Comments
they say time heals all wounds.
some are more indelible than others.
a very few can't be healed, only papered-over, for the time being.
but time does take the edge off it.
Posted by: re-minisce. at July 10, 2003 11:41 PM