I have a mess of observations and ideas inside my head. I've been having trouble methodically sorting through them, so I'm taking the desperate measure of puking out random points and thoughts in writing.

It is a sad truth that I've had a lot of friendships that faded away purely due to geographical reasons. When I came back home and walked into my bedroom for the first time in a couple years, I saw that the pictures in the frames on the walls were taken about four years ago, and some people in those pictures weren't relevant to my life anymore, not because of anything dramatic, but just because our friendship wasn't the kind to survive once our lives didn't overlap. It felt peculiar. I haven't spoken to you for ages, have no idea what you're doing, and yet there you are, smiling on my wall. You meant something to me back then.

I have a bit of bitterness lodged in my chest, and it is aimed at a particular person, which makes it harder to let go. I have tried rationalising through it, and when that failed, tried coaxing it to go away. I then attempted to prune it out of my thoughts altogether. At certain points, I optimistically believe I can overcome it with humor, but then it bubbles up again, and I feel it, vitriolic and hateful. I am disappointed with myself over this, I understand it is not right, this harboring of ill-will. I also grasp the concept that sometimes it's no one's fault, shit just goes down, and yet I still find myself frustrated, and I bounce between blaming myself and finding ways to justify my anger.

I start working next week, and I have all the regular fears of starting somewhere new. What if, what if, what if. At the top of the worry list, you have the classic, never-gets-old fear of "What if I don't make friends?", and as I work my way down, there are things like "Will rush hour traffic suck my soul out?" and "What if it takes me longer to learn and pick up things than the others?", and also some new ones, like "Can I trust myself to manage my money wisely?" and "Holy crap, ,macam mane nak pakai make-up?".

My brother is 15 this year folks, percaya tak? I was so surprised when I saw him at the airport, he's grown so tall. And he eats constantly, but remains lanky and thin. I, on the other hand, have only been back about half a month, and already I can tell my shorts and pants fit snugger around the waist. Food is yummy and plentiful, and while the sure fact that I've gained a bit of weight makes me unhappy, it's the sort of unhappiness that makes me sigh glumly for bit but then I brighten up while reaching for another piece/slice/helping of goreng pisang/cake/nasi/shepherd's pie/anything edible.

Oh, and I think my brother has nice handwriting. It's nicer than mine was at that age, or ever will be, as a matter of fact.

Ok bye.