nights are shorter now that i've stopped searching. scraps of paper just amount to clutter. i want to de-clutter. i've thrown receipts away, unwanted piles of clothes. on any given day i walk into one of those shops selling new-fangled clothing - shapeless dresses, cotton pinafores, black leggings that are a bane to wear in sunny singapore. on any given day, i walk the streets of singapore and feel as though i've aged twenty years in the ten that has spanned me by since my last days of wearing the pinafore in secondary school.



indecision has caught hold of me, and i am more in limbo than ever. to stay or leave? moments of indecision that sweep past me and then hold me in grasp, me sitting at my cubicle, wanting to leave everything behind. we all need a break - who's to say who needs it more than any other person?



on days when i want nothing more than to lie in and sleep in - a waste of time? whoever cares?



no longer yellow pills, white ones now. and these white pills are scary, for they render me into a walking ghoul - i stumble along the hallways bleary for want of sleep. it seems so easy to wake. stumble along, take a swig from the bottle of vodka and feel acid burn my throat and then my insides, and then another white pill - i don't even bother to halve the dosage now.

naysayers view sleep as a waste of time - i want for nothing more than to bury my head under the covers and sleep the day away. breathless under the covers - for want of air, but still, i lie, under the covers.

you're on a plane now, sailing through the clouds, far away from me. a moment of indecision, i could have easily joined you, but i didn't. things have changed.

but still, i miss the days of yore. i despise the ability to be dependent on another individual - the knowledge that there is always someone to run to and to confide in when things get wonky. i used to solve things on my own - to grit and let go - what was so difficult then? what can be so difficult now?

reminiscent of those days - one particular day when i walked the bridge alone and watched two ripples spread in the water. and wished - and made a wish for you. have i made wishes for people over the years? it all seems so inconsequential now, childish, even. for how could i even bear to hope that my voice, my thoughts, were important enough to be heard?

and when christmas now seems such a long way away and march seems dull and dreary and just speaks of days to get ridden of, while april speaks of hidden plots and days to overcome - i foresee days again of getting up, half in slumber, stumbling to the bathroom to wash up.

this is why i have to wean off the white pills.