Huiting's 5 stages of grieving

[Stage 1 - Denial]: NO WAYYYYYYY!! i SO do NOT have IT.
[Stage 2 - Anger]: *pulls hair trichotilomanially* shit. wth. DAMN IT!! look what psych did to me!!! (All Psych Majors, 2006).
[Stage 3 - Bargaining]: if you take IT away from me, i promise i'll sleep early, eat more healthy stuff, stop studying(actually, maybe not), and give IT more conditional preferential treatment.
[Stage 4 - Depression]: just leave IT alone! *pouts sulkily*
[Stage 5 - Acceptance]: FINE. i'll quit school, marry a rich guy, and dye IT all PINK!!!

=(

*

as i stepped out of the mrt station, i had the urge to stay rooted and drink in all the familiar sights and smells - homemade bread wafting past the nostrils, mingled with the all-too-familiar stench of boys-in-green; the ongoing cheap sales at the atrium; the many bicycles parked along the railings; the waiting cars along the road with the two blinking orange lights; the boys and girls clothed in tee and berms with their duffles, waiting inpatiently for the rest to turn up.

as i struuted along the familiar bicycle track once again, the noisy train whizzed past, kids raced with the bicycles, and secondary school boys swagger and hoot with laughter.

the simple things that i never bothered to take a second look at or frown at, suddenly all seemed too much to take in.

and the sight of mummy was such a relief and bliss. all she did was take a look at me, and the next day i got all my favourite food smacked right in front of me. and the subtle signs of encouragement and soft naggings to sleep early all seemed abnormally soothing.

hmmmm... just a big hug before the long ride back to the deserted island.

girl, you're on your own again.

be strong.