You have no idea how grateful I am to have pulled through 'till this day.
Officially five more days and then I'll be emancipated-
once again free to explore and journey and pursue all that fills
my old soul with glorious bliss and intensifies
the passion and excitement and interest in all things that makes my personality giddy with good vibes.

There's a particular day I look forward to
and if all goes as plans- oh, I just don't want to spoil it for myself.
But I'm confident I will be happy.

This will sound incredulously sanctimonious and condescending
but I will be honest and say-
I am glad I won't have to work with any of you for the time being
and I'm really, really positive I won't miss most of you.

Oh, the truth may hurt but the burden is lifted.
That is my honest sentiment to you.

Fare thee well.

You know what is good for me now?

Torn up uneven pieces of wholemeal bread
drenched in an ocean of milky oatmeal.

I've always been a true devout consumer of toasted bread and its crunchy goodness
but having my bread now soaking in oatmeal mix-
its soft texture absorbing all the grainy nutrients
and releasing a wave full of oh-so-tasty goodness upon palate contact-
ah, you should leave me and my food in privacy.



I'm still avidly devouring food porn- visually, of course.
Even though I'm on this new food journey,
the photos do evoke some good reminiscing of flavours and texture.

This is a non-fiction post yet again; the raconteur in me may be in slumber.

My dear reader, I must assure you, unlike the others below- this is not a story.

I deliberated on whether or not I should post this for you,
but considering the dramatic turn of events that have
surprisingly affected your palate in a rather,
should we say, strange and refreshing manner,
I thought it was necessary to highlight this momentous phase here.

Surprisingly enough, this craving was inception in you
due to a college assignment, of which
I shall refrain from reminding you of
due to the tormentous suffering it has inflicted on your artistic well being.

Vegetables (does this strike a chime now?) were constantly on your mind
presented in the most colourful, vibrant and wholesomely delicious manner-
and oh! You could almost feel the crunch of health as you savoured the dish
in your thoughts.

I must also add, that it was your time of the month,
the time where cravings for the sweet and occasionally out of the blue treats
would normally kick in.
Strangely enough, you craved vegetables only.
And no, I don't mean the slimy, graphic regurgitated kind you normally detest.

A certain Cinna friend also introduced a new form of workout to you
and her happy healthy eating ways soon brought you to see
healthy food in a whole new light.
Two trips to the organic land was all it took to make you a believer-
well, an almost convert, anyway.

Now, I don't know how you are living your life at the moment,
whether or not you may be some stringent
pesce/lacto-ovo/vegan/flexi-tarian,
but the old you from way back when
would have squirmed at the thought of
this veggie craving and instead
be fantasizing about
cheese as it is stretched lazily and long
'till t detaches itself from the pizza crust.

Again, I must remind you this whole phase
is very much foreign to your younger you,
but the strange thing is the plain fact
that all of this made you happy.

I have cogitated and analyzed this whole phase
and honestly speaking it may be
some sick twisted psychological game
you were playing with yourself
to get your endorphins and serotonin (le happy hormone)
up and running in the various streams of your body.

But, I must reiterate, you were happy-
or well at least not dismal and sad-
in this phase of your life.

So this concludes the small reminder and little update
of how the current you is doing at the moment.
You are at the conjecture of considering going flexi-
and this may be the crossroad of lifestyle change for you.

Take as many cares as you can;
I hope you live long enough to read this.

I would assume- after much cogitation and deliberation -that my tendency to shy away from the others around me would stem- conversely and ironically enough- from the sole fact that I am lonely.

Silly child, you may chide.
There are so many around you-
simply pick one and strike up a conversation!

However plain and straightforward the aforementioned suggestion may be,
a thought in me seems to express the fact
that I long for an individual of complementary frequencies-
both in thought and perhaps, if it's not too much to ask- interests.

Ah, now you see the dilemma.

A queer oddity who finds such small joy
in peculiar, unorthodox and occasionally morbid subjects
makes friends the same way the others would.
But most of the time the camaraderie
is only transient; surface.

Only after completing the series of
general social exchanges and trading basic personal information
does the oddity find, albeit once in awhile,
another strange soul with perks and quirks.

And everyone, even the others,
know the great, albeit small, surge of delight
when stumbling upon another whom,
amazingly enough,
was created strangely just as you.

Brisk scent of smoked salmon tinged with mint and lemon whiffs by and teases my nose as the quiet yet quaint little cottage shop buzzes with the whispers and tiny laughters of the pier folk.

I politely request for warm toasted crumpets and hot milk tea to warm the ten bendy frosty joints of my wrists.

I watch the ships sail by at a snail's pace and stretch out my index finger behind the stern, as if helping the ship to sail faster. The window quickly fogs up again and I wipe my sleeve across it in a circular motion- as though to make a window in a window.

I am alone and unknown in this little town but yet I've never felt lighter than I ever have. Strangers are kind and the food- oh the food!

This place is picturesque; quintessentially a piece extracted from my travels. My mind meanders to all the things I left behind; all those awful things I gladly do not miss.

Slowly, I allow myself to permeate through the four lined frame;

finally, I evanesce.