Change is good. I’m surprisingly indifferent to blogdrive shutting down, there goes randomly frank. It’s of a ripe ol’ age, anyway…time for the apple to fall.

Or maybe not just yet.

Home is good, not dusty, unlike boarding. Home is good, because I have things to unpack, to arrange, and recreate a part of me again. Home is good, I have a new computer, who needs the TV now haha. Home is good, lots of chocolates in the fridge for me to devour.

It’s a different feel, completely, from coming home for the holidays. This one is permanent, directionless. 9 months is a long time for me to plan timelines and deadlines. So many books I want to read, yet not a single one I can remember now.

Today was depressing, really, painfully so. Even leaving my room– despite my genuine detest of boarding and its weekly fogging, perhaps there’s an emotional attachment that’s too difficult to abandon in a flash like that. Leaving people, some with goodbyes, some without. Some with insufficient goodbyes. I can’t stand it. Coming home still has a floating feel to it; unreal, like I’m still going to go back to my dusty square next weekend, or something. Like if I open my door, school is just a few steps away, and I can drop by carolling practice anytime, I can take my computer and break into a classroom anytime.

It’s strange, strange, strange. Unfinished.