I suddenly got this flashback of a memory from when I was 11, I think. I had chicken pox, and was itching like crazy all over. I remember my mom helping me put some balm all over the spots, and she switched on the air-conditioning to help provide some relief. Then I remember her reading a storybook to me, though that seems odd, because isn't 11 too old for bedtime stories? Nevertheless, I can very vividly recall cuddling up to her shoulder as I listened to her.

I like how sometimes, as I walk back with Logs on the way home from the library, or go makan with him and Kelly, I still get that feeling where I am genuinely pleased to be in their company, and there's this warm, chocolatey sense that I am grateful, beyond grateful, for their friendship. And it is not pretentious, or fake, or insincere, it is not hard. I'm not saying it's effortless, but with them there is an ease that is so hard to find with others, with them I'm not a social retard.Their friendship redeems me.

And when things go wrong, when I do several things wrong and feel like fuck, as I do now, I'm going to use these two separate pieces to cheer myself up.