Nine more days. Bracing myself for a storm in the last few days, or at least unpredictable surges in emotion. Already some sort of regret is cloyingly welling up. It’s all the more annoying for its diffuse, amorphous nature, the way I can’t assuage it, its persistent, faint aroma.
There is a sort of benevolent mildness in the way I’m looking at everyone around me now. Meanwhile, I have acquired this annoying habit of listening to songs on repeat. Right now it’s White Daisies Passing.
Yesterday, D, A and I went to town on a passing whim. (I did, at least. For them, I suspect it was mediated.) We had frozen yogurt, sat in Fairway for a long moment talking, looked at scrapbooking materials at Walmart, and on the way back, we sat basking in the sun by the roadside, eating mangoes with our bare hands, while we waited for a car to drive us back up the hill. It was a minor liberation. Made dinner, spent the night watching Ted Talks and pretending to study biology. Crashed early because I’d slept around 4-5 hours the past few nights.
Underneath it all there is a roiling disturbance. The surface calm is but a demeanour, I think. I’m not sure what I’m holding on to. What does it matter, in the end?