Pearson

It is Mid-Autumn Festival, and like last year, I am homesick. Unlike last year, I am acutely homesick. Unlike last year, I am not sure which home it is I am heartsick for, or if even it exists. Unlike last year, I want to be alone right now, seeking solace in classical Chinese poetry and 'classic' Chinese songs that sing with a sort of touching intensity which almost brings me back to my angst-ridden primary school days. Unlike last year, I am also sick with the mundane cold, a persistent cough.

Maybe I should call my parents, or definitely, my grandmother. I want to talk to you guys too, I think – especially reply the birthday missives, which were amazing and sweet; I like how I spent my birthday this year. But for now I need to retain that illusion of Pearson being my whole world, that even if I'm unhappy here, it is all I know and all I have for this year, and there is nothing, nothing to do. You can't be unhappy if no alternatives exist. Where else can I be?

I fear that I will regret not updating my LJ with details of orientation week or the past week of classes, because even with last year's posts, I was missing gaps. My LJ gave the impression that I was happy last year, or at least enjoying myself. In some ways, second year has been better than the first, but in all the ways that matter, it isn't. But happiness is a choice, happiness is illusory, happiness is work, purpose. Happiness is direction, happiness is intention(al).

I want to chop off my hair.

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