9 days. And a life's worth of childishness.

"Tombent les nuits a la lueurs de bougies qui fondent

Et que la lumiere soit

Passent les heures que s'ecoulent a jamais les secondes

Et que la lumiere soit..."

Beautiful lyrics.

I would've never come across Keren Ann's wonderful music had it not been...

yet another conflict with my dad,

on a topic tres juvenile.

Excuse my lack of accents by the way - can't be bothered to learn how to type them.

Who knew missed phone calls could result in a ... meeting with my father, ruined.

I hope he realises that this is one of the last times he'll see me before I leave.

This is just so perfect.

He was the reason I want to be away from home to start with,

and the feeling just got stronger.

There's quite a list of people I'm going to miss though.

B.

"Well, it kind of hurts when the words you write

And kind of turn themselves into knives,

And don't mind my nerve you can call it fiction,

'Cause I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear,

'Cause here we are,

Here we are."

I don't know what we are,

but right now, I just know that I really want to see you.

I need to.

B.

"How was I to know that this was always only just a little game to you,

All the time I felt you gave your heart I thought that I would do the same to you.

To tell the truth I should have seen it coming from a mile away..."

Once you're put on life support,

there is basically no other option.

No one expects a sudden recovery,

and spontaneous jerks of energy are no signs of hope.

No matter how hard the body's system tries to fight back,

it is inevitably, going through the process of decay.

The only variation from body to body

is the duration, the length of time it takes

till the organs reach the eventual stage of disrepair,

dysfunctionality.

In that specific scenario,

discomfort is hailed in from all directions;

the patient, ofcourse, suffers the more direct physical pain.

Yet, as those who've undergone these situations,

it's normally his closest;

family, friends and people of the like-

that suffer from pain in it's prevailing form.

Nothing hurts more than having to watch a loved pass.

Nothing hurts as much as to have to

watch love die.

and babe,

it hurts, like hell.

B.

"All I really wanna do is to love you,

The kind much closer than friends use,

But I still can't say it after all we've been through

All I want from you is to feel me,

As the feeling inside keeps building,

I'll find a way to you, if it kills me, if it kills me."

Still yearning and twisting a bit,

for the fluttering heart is looking for a safe spot to land.

I wish there was another way out of this than to just wait for the arrival of something new.

B.

"Woke up and wished that I was dead

With an aching in my head

I lay motionless in bed

I thought of you and where you'd gone

and let the world spin madly on."

I feel like I've moved on.

The emptiness no longer kills me;

wrenching at the heart whenever something reminds me of you.

Perhaps 'cause it's had enough as well,

and what feels like ripping burns are being defended against,

out of numbness.

It has been way too long,

much too long for me own good.

Yet the acknowledgement of this new-found liberation

is not reacting quite positively with the rest of my system.

I've been insomnic, thinking about the whole thing.

But on the other hand,

there are so many other things that are more satisfying.

It only takes a gather-round between family and friends.

I have a feeling that I'll actually miss this place quite a lot.

2 weeks exactly.

B.

Chasing Pavements

"This ain't lust, I know this is love...

But if I tell the world, I'll never say enough

'Cause it was not said to you

And that's exactly what I need to do if I'd end up with you

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements

Even if it leads nowhere?

Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place

Should I leave it there...?"

That's basically my story.

Thank you Adele.

I'm chasing pavements, wound up and lost,

walking on eventhough I know it'll lead to nowhere.

What am I doing, wasting effort and time.

Yet my legs won't pause. They just won't stop.

I keep anticipating the eventual arrival/reward of...

you.

B.

"The more I see you, the more I want you

Somehow this feeling just grows and grows,

With every sigh I become more mad about you

More lost without you and so it goes..."

Being after something that you know will never be yours

yet is only just in fact, right in front of you,

is quite similar to the torture Tantalus goes through

as he positions his life around reaching above him

to the vine of grapes that has been cruelly placed just beyond his reach by the gods.

Just so what is perhaps, just a fingertip away

is still beyond reach,

and therefore,

never to be possessed.